


A Dynasty's Destiny

by DanTanner20



Series: Flight of the Russian Eagle [1]
Category: Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally, Historical RPF, Russian Royalty RPF
Genre: 1910s, 1920s, 1930s, Alternate History, Alternate Universe - Historical, Child Loss, Drama & Romance, Eventual Sex, F/M, Family Feels, Germany, Historical Figures, Historical References, Not Canon Compliant, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Russian Empire, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:13:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 67,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25798732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanTanner20/pseuds/DanTanner20
Summary: In 1904, Alexandra has a stillbirth, and history will never be the same. Olga, the eldest Grand Duchess of Russia, finds herself as the successor to her father, NIcholas II of Russia. She is now the last hope for the Russian Empire. Will the Romanovs and a certain kitchen boy have their happily ever after despite the work of sinister forces?
Relationships: Olga Nikolaevna Romanova / Dmitri Pavlovich
Series: Flight of the Russian Eagle [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1871686
Comments: 8
Kudos: 27





	1. Divergence

**Author's Note:**

> This is an alternate history, but I will do my best to keep the background facts as accurate as I can. For example, all historical figures will retain their personalities, beliefs, etc. On a side note, some of this is already pre-written on FFN, so updates will be frequent!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do NOT own Anastasia or the Romanovs. No disrespect is intended by this work.

_August 12, 1904_

Tsar Nicholas the Second, ruler of the mammoth Russian Empire, had never been so worried before in his thirty-six years alive. He stroked his trimmed beard while he paced around the hallway. Another shrill scream erupted from behind the door of his wife's bedroom. For a few minutes, all Nicholas could hear was silence- until he heard his wife sob. After those few moments, Nicholas could hear Doctor Botkin and the midwives talk in hushed tones. Fearing the worst, the Tsar knocked on the door and waited for his royal doctor to open it. After some time, he heard the door unlock and saw it open. With trembling hands, he entered the room, feeling dread fill his being.

Doctor Botkin wore a saddened expression, looking a decade older. He stepped aside, and spoke, "Your Majesty… I am sorry to inform you that your son… was stillborn. The cord was wrapped around his neck."

Nicholas froze as if he were doused in freezing water. He looked at his wife, Tsarina Alexandra, cradling a little body swaddled in blankets. She looked at him with her watery blue eyes, and she could not hold back her emotions that threatened to overflow. The tears came again, and she sobbed again with a louder volume, sending another wave of grief into her husband's heart. Nicholas felt his agony increase as he slowly looked around the grotesque scene. The towels under his wife were soaked with blood, and the blankets were ruffled. All midwives and Doctor Botkin, dressed in red uniforms, stood at the corners of the room and looked at Nicholas with pity.

"It cannot be…" The Tsar whispered to himself, shaking his head.

The Tsar looked at the still body of his son who never took his first breath, and he walked to his wife. He remembered feeling his wife's stomach for kicks. He remembered countless moments spent arguing over names. Had his son lived, he would have been the apple of his eye and the next Tsarevitch. However, that possibility was just wishful thinking rather than reality, and reality now reared its ugly side. Arriving beside his wife, Nicholas ran his hand over the blue cheek of his stillborn son. He could not tolerate the looks from Doctor Botkin and the midwives much longer, as he wanted to privately converse with his wife. He then told the midwives and the doctor to clean the blood, and he exited the room as they did so. After they had done so, Nicholas reentered the bedroom, and he spoke again.

"You all may leave," Nicholas said, looking back with a strained expression.

The doctor and midwives left the room, closing the door behind them. Nicholas looked into the eyes of his wife, who continued to sob and hug the body of their son. He outstretched his hands toward his wife to ask for her permission to hold his son. Instead of giving Nicholas a chance to handle the fresh corpse of their son, Alexandra moved her arms farther from him. Nicholas frowned, and his lips trembled.

The Tsar began to sob, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Nicholas sank to the ground, crouching by the bed and burying his face into the shoulder of his wife. Overwhelmed by their grief, both Tsar and Tsarina mourned for their son for an extended time. After his tears had run dry, Nicholas embraced his wife, who also stopped her wails and tears. What could not be expressed through words was expressed by a gentle hug. Alexandra looked at Nicholas with her watery blue eyes and spoke for the first time in hours.

"Nicky… I failed. This is my fault," Alexandra sadly said.

"You did your finest, Sunny. I do not blame you for the stillborn birth," Nicholas replied.

"You- you do not blame me?"

"Of course not. I love you with all my being. You will always be the light of my life and my other half, no matter what we go through," Nicholas said, kissing Alexandra on her cheek.

"Thank you, Nicky."

Nicholas covered his wife with the blankets, and he pulled a chair closer to the bed before sitting on it. As he listened to the rhythmic breathing of his wife, he hoped that their four daughters would survive despite the unrest in his empire. Since he had once again failed to conceive a living male heir to the throne, he and his wife would surely be looked down upon by the commoners. In addition, the failure of his dynasty to relieve the starvation in rural areas did not help his people's approval. Both of those troubles greatly bothered them. If left unchecked, that dissatisfaction could blossom into hatred for the royal family, and their daughters would be at risk of assassination.

* * *

Olga Nikolaevna Romanova, a tempered eight year old, had the blue Romanov eyes from her father. Sitting on her bed, she flipped to the last page of a novel. While going through the usual routines of wandering the palace, eating her three meals, and cleaning her room, she grew more anxious with every passing hour. The oldest Grand Duchess wondered about the well-being of her mother and the baby, and she was worried. For over half a day, she had awaited news about her soon-to-be sibling and the condition of her mother.

Tatiana, the oldest of Olga's three siblings, sat beside her while reading her own book. Like her sister, Tatiana felt worried as well. Unlike her sister, she kept all signs of her concern hidden under a mask of indifference. This was because Tatiana was the leader figure of the Romanov daughters. She was expected to remain unaffected by hardships and give direction to the rest of her sisters during their trials. For this certain situation, Tatiana could not do anything to ease her sisters through it.

"Tatya, do you think the baby is fine?" Olga asked.

Tatiana, shifting her gaze to her older sister, said, "I do not know, Olya. All we can do is wait and pray for Mama and the baby."

With reluctance, Olga continued to read. Tatiana resumed reading her book, but she could not concentrate. For another few minutes, they read in silence, occasionally looking at the door in anticipation. Finally, they heard their parents talk in hushed tones outside their door. Placing down her book on the nightstand, Tatiana jumped off the bed in excitement, hoping to see her new sibling. She opened the door with a smile, but it quickly faded as she looked at the tear stained cheeks of her father. Olga, also stepping outside of the bedroom, lost her smile as well.

"Papa, what is wrong?" Tatiana asked.

Nicholas only shook his head, and Alexandra wept. Tatiana, who felt confused, asked her question again. Again, she received no reply except for the ongoing sobbing of her mother and silence from her father.

"Papa?" she asked in a nervous tone.

"Your brother left us… he is with God and the angels now."

"But I want to see him!" Olga yelled.

"I am sorry, my little Olga, but the baby… your brother… he is gone."

Olga lowered her head in disappointment, and she asked, "Did the baby… _die_?"

Nicholas sighed, lowering his shoulders. "Yes, your brother is gone."

Olga stood still, as she was shocked by the news. She could not believe that the baby within her mother was now gone. Her baby brother, the heir to the throne and another addition to their tightly knit family, had sadly passed. He never took his first breath, as his birth had been complicated by the tangled umbilical cord. Despite the passing of the Tsarevitch, the Romanovs could still continue their line of succession. However, they would have to break with their long held traditions of male heirs, and that bothered Nicholas the Second.

Alexandra dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief, and she looked at Nicholas. "Oh, what do we do, Nicky?"

Born a stubborn and wary man, Nicholas despised making changes in traditions. He briefly considered trying for another pregnancy, but he hesitated. Trying for another heir was an option, but it had a higher chance of disaster. The last birth had been difficult, and his wife had severely bled. Nicholas realized the importance of continuing the line of succession with a male heir, but he could not endanger his beloved Sunny. Only one option was left: stubborn, moody Olga. He took a deep breath, and he coolly decided his next course of action.

"I never thought that I would consider this, but the circumstances demand another solution for inheritance of the throne," the Tsar spoke.

Alexandra gasped, realizing what her husband planned to do. "But, Nicky, the rules of succession…"

"I know, my love, but I believe that we have no other option but to change our Salic laws. Our eldest daughter will become the next Tsarina, and that is my final decision."

"Mama, Papa? What are you talking about?" Olga said with a confused expression while Tatiana remained silent.

"Olga… we need to tell you something," Nicholas quietly said, bending down to Olga.

"What?"

"You will be queen someday, dear child. Once you are old enough, you will take it, " Nicholas said.

Olga continued to stay still, as she had never expected the news that she was next in line for the throne. Tatiana felt surprised like her older sister, and her mouth remained agape. Even at eight or seven years old, they both were told that princesses could not inherit the throne. Soon, their fate would be changed.

Olga looked up into the blue eyes of her father. "Me? Tsarina?"

"Certainly. This means that you will have to act more like a lady, especially controlling your temper. Since we have no heir, you have become the future of our family," Nicholas said.

"But what about Tatiana? She is good at telling people to do things."

"Olga, you are the oldest, so you will be the next Tsarina… someday," Nicholas said with a weak smile.

Olga placed her hands on her mouth, feeling surprised that she had been promoted from a Grand Duchess to the future inheritor of the throne. Besides happiness and surprise, she had her doubts. With her temper and stubbornness, she was not the best choice for Tsarina unlike her younger sister. Would she be ready for the burden of governing over a vast empire?

Tatiana faced Olga. "Olya's gonna be queen?"

"I am not sure, Tatya. I get angry easily, but you are more calm than me, so you should be Tsarina," Olga said.

* * *

The day after Olga had been selected as the future Tsarina, the funeral for the stillborn child was held in the Alexander Palace gardens. Since the Russian people had looked down on the Tsarina for repeatedly failing to deliver a male heir, it was decided that the funeral be privately held. As with all ceremonies involving the Russian royal family, there were scores of guards patrolling the perimeter of the location.

Watching a tiny white coffin be carried by priests with an escort of guards dressed in black uniforms, the Tsar, Tsarina, and their four daughters sat in silence. The coffin was carried to the center of the gardens past the trees and various flower beds which included forget-me-nots. After what seemed like hours for Olga, she saw the coffin being lowered into the neatly dug hole. The priests and the Romanovs gathered around the hole and uttered a few prayers for the soul of the child. Alexandra could barely pronounce the words coherently, as she struggled not to sob again. After the prayer, the priest spoke one last remark for the child.

"Alexei Romanov, may your soul find peace and love in the tender embrace of the Lord." the priest spoke in a solemn tone.

As the covering of the coffin began, the royal couple knew that their lives would never be the same, and the time for change was approaching.


	2. Plans of Succession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicholas II of Russia meets with his advisors to gain insight about how to address revolutionary activity. As usual, he does not take competent action. The Romanovs pay their respects to Alexei after the meeting, as it is the anniversary of his death.

_August 11, 1909_

It was the day before the fifth anniversary of Alexei's death. The palace was permeated with a cold silence. Burdened by the bitter memory of the death of their only son, Nicholas and Alexandra kept silent for much of the day. When they did talk with their surviving children, they quietly did so. Even the kitchen servants did not chatter as much. The numerous guards around the palace grounds hardly spoke at all, so their usual gossip was almost nonexistent.

As the four daughters and their mother stayed in their rooms, Nicholas and his advisors discussed political matters in the Formal Reception Room. The latest reports had arrived from the royal intelligence officers, and a clamor arose. All of his advisors, including Korsakov, argued over what action should be taken. Two sides arose. One side advocated for reforms to satisfy the people, and the other side advocated against any change. Some of the advisors came from nobility, and they feared the loss of their lifestyles from reform. To give up their power and live as commoners was unthinkable to them. Nicholas, feeling torn between the needs of his people and the advice of his advisors, sighed. The constant reports of strikes and protests unsettled him, and he doubted whether he could run the empire of the Romanovs. Even when he was a mere Duke, he was reluctant to become the Tsar. Korsakov, a tall, bearded man with dark hair and blue eyes, called for silence.

"Quiet!" Nicholas loudly said, and the advisors ceased their bickering.

The advisors turned their heads to face their Tsar with surprised looks on their faces. Never before had the advisors heard the quiet and seemingly calm Tsar raise his voice. Each of them thought that the Tsar had reached a decision.

"I want to hear each side present their proposals. I believe that the current situation in my empire calls for action, so I will consider each side before making a decision. But, all of you must remember that I cannot give up my power, as I was predestined to take the throne," the Tasr said as calmly as he could.

"Mister Korsakov, you may speak again."

"Thank you, Your Majesty. Now, I believe that the old ways are failing to work as they have in the past. That has been the case since the massacre of 1905. People are starving or suffering in horrific conditions throughout the empire. The people's approval is declining, so unrest is growing. Thus, we must consider the possibility of change."

Nicholas clenched his fists upon remembering the tragedy of Bloody Sunday. While he was in his other palace, the masses had flocked to his Winter Palace to voice their needs for better working conditions. However, a few incompetent guards had fired out of fear into the crowds, and they had caused a massacre. Over four hundred were killed or wounded. Yet the anger of his people toward his regime worried him, and he felt that he needed more strict measures to keep them in control. At the moment, he would simply listen to his most trusted advisor, Korsakov.

"You may continue speaking."

"The change I propose is to pass laws that require better working conditions for the working class. If we show the people that we care for their needs, their approval will increase. As a result, we will face less riots and strikes, as the anger and upset feelings of the people will be quelled. The lesser the anger, the lesser the risk of a coup."

Nicholas nodded his head, and he looked at the other advisors. "The other side may speak their thoughts on the matter."

A blonde man in a dark blue suit stood up from his seating and spoke with his blue eyes gleaming. "As Advisor Korsakov has stated, civil unrest is growing, and revolutionaries are roaming the streets. If we cater to their demands, we are only making this dynasty a dynasty of... pushovers. I mean no offense, Your Majesty, but a leader must not always bend to the will of the people, but to follow what is right. What is right? Right is to keep control over the people before they turn traitorous! If we do not keep control, they will take advantage of us... and finally... slaughter us! Therefore, I propose that harsher penalties for revolutionary activity be implemented."

The man sat down, wearing a stern expression on his face. Silence filled the room as the Tsar made his final decision. Minutes passed as the Tsar reread the reports again. Nicholas the Second thought of how his father, Alexander the Third, was murdered by radicals. He thought of what would have happened if his family were in the Winter Palace during Bloody Sunday. It became clear to him that the commoners and his fellow nobles would never be satisfied with a few new laws. Finally, he thought that catering to the people would only worsen the faltering grip of control his dynasty held over Russia. A part of his conscience urged him to care for his people, but he dismissed it.

"I have decided... that all prisoners who certainly participated with revolutionaries are to be _executed_. As the leader of Russia, I cannot tolerate traitorous activities. However, I will sign a new labor law to test its effects," Nicholas said.

"But... Your Majesty..." the suited man spoke.

"My decision is final regardless of any further comments. This meeting is adjourned."

All advisors except for Korsakov got out of their chairs and resumed their chatter, giving each other handshakes. The rest of the advisors exited the room, and the guards outside the door closed the doors. Only the Tsar and his closest advisor were left within the room, and they moved from their seats to sit next to each other.

"Korsakov, I must ask you of one other thing..."

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

"It took me three years to persuade my relatives to change the succession rules. Do you approve of my change of the throne inheritance rules, which went into effect a year before?"

"Well, it is too early to tell. I understand that changing the succession laws may be an unfamiliar action to take, but I know that your eldest daughter has the compassion and a studious mind. She may make a wise Tsarina."

"Yes... if you feel ready, you can become the advisor for Olga once she becomes Tsarina?"

"I will consider that."

If Korsakov agreed to become the advisor for the upcoming heiress to the throne, he knew that he was taking a part in something bigger. He thought of the past mistakes of the Tsar and Tsarina. Failing to provide an apology for Bloody Sunday was a foolish, neglectful action. Dissolving the Duma indefinitely was not a wise move especially when the people felt a need to express their dissatisfaction. If he were Tsar, he would be a ruler open to change rather than one who swept his problems under the table.

Nicholas cleared his throat and folded the reports before placing them into his pockets. He felt comforted that he had someone else beside his wife to confide in. Korsakov, despite the rumors of him sneaking into the bedrooms of his daughters, offered sound advice for much of his decisions. The Tsar overlooked the rumors, as he believed that they were false. After all, Korsakov was nothing but loyal and helpful to him. He looked at the grandfather clock in the Reception Room and he noticed that two hours had passed. The time was now noon: half past twelve.

"I appreciate your encouragement. I wish that we could converse more, but I must check on my children."

"Of course."

The Tsar parted ways with his advisor for the day, and he made his way through the various rooms and corridors to the bedroom of his eldest daughter. He opened the door to see his Olga reading _The Prince_ by Niccolo Machiavelli. As requested by her political tutor, a noble named Ivano, she was to study that work to know the ways of governing a country or empire. Olga looked up with her blue eyes, and she closed the book, making sure to leave a bookmark.

"Papa, is it true that politics do not relate to morals? I thought that a good ruler must care about the people..." Olga said, feeling confused by her readings.

"Well, Olga, I must tell you that sometimes that people may not have the best interests in mind."

"How?" Olga eagerly asked.

"Well, people can be selfish and narrow-minded. They might not respect the authorities that keep order either!"

"Then... how do we handle the people if they riot and strike no matter what we do?"

Nicholas sighed. "Then... we must do whatever it takes to keep that order. I think that a government, despite its flaws, is far superior to anarchy."

"Anarchy? What is that?"

"A lack of order or any government. Such a condition would mean chaos and destruction of our empire. I pray that Russia will never become one, especially during your reign someday."

"I pray so too, Papa. I am worried about those angry crowds."

"As long as I am on the throne, no harm will come to our family."

Olga smiled, and she placed the book on her desk. She thought of the time that she was told by her father about the Bloody Sunday incident. During that day, her naivety disappeared, as she realized that the world was filled with suffering and injustice. Thinking about the likely possibility of inheriting the throne, Olga promised herself that she would become a competent ruler. Now she was the current successor in line for the throne, since her younger brother had been stillborn. She did not dare confess her true feelings about her father's reign, as she would be reprimanded by her parents.

Her father was far from a perfect ruler, and Olga had realized that his greatest strength and weakness was his stubbornness. From a few secret peeks at the reports and newspapers, the eldest Grand Duchess knew what had happened. Nicholas, a stubborn man at heart, feared and resisted change. His failure to handle Bloody Sunday properly and suspending the Duma were proof of that. As much as she wished to enact change, she knew she was still too young for the throne.

"Are you alright? You seem to have something on your mind," Nicholas asked.

"I'm just thinking about the people. I worry that their poor lives will anger them even more," Olga said.

"No need to worry, the issues are being handled as we speak. I am beginning measures to preserve order from those accursed revolutionaries."

"Would shutting down the voice of the people only delay an uprising?"

"Not a coup. We can handle anything below the level of a coup. Now follow me, it is time for all of us to have lunch. Let us not dwell on troubles all the time."

Olga nodded, but she still felt worry for the safety of her family. She knew that her father made an effort to avoid the subject, but she overlooked it. Nicholas led Olga outside her room, and they went to the doors adjacent to her bedroom. Hearing giggles from behind the door, Nicholas rolled his eyes. Perhaps his little imp was up to more mischief. He playfully knocked on the door, and more muffled whispers could be heard.

A moment later, the door opened to reveal two girls: Anastasia and Maria. Anastasia peeked from the gap between the door and doorframe, and Nicholas managed a weak smile. She was his youngest daughter, and the favorite granddaughter of the Dowager Empress. Looking closely at the paint smudged on her fair hands, he shook his head.

"Looks like you forgot to wipe your hands, my little princess," he said in a playful tone.

Anastasia gave her signature pout with her blue eyes looking upwards. "But, Papa... it was Mashka's idea to paint with our fingers!"

"Hey!" Maria said.

Nicholas tried resisting a laugh at the sudden drama between the Little Pair sisters. "Alright, calm down, you two. You both can wash your hands after this, and then we can enjoy lunch. After that, we will have a walk in the gardens."

"Will there be cookies?" Anastasia asked.

"Yes, my little shvibzik, you can have one if you choose not to be a cookie thief like last time."

"I promise, Papa."

* * *

Thankfully, Anastasia did not steal or hoard any of the well-crafted shortbread cookies. The royal couple were pleased with how their family lunch went without incident, and they led their four daughters outside into the gardens. Nicholas, Alexandra, and their daughters strolled on the paved stone paths, admiring the towering oak and spruce trees. Olga and Tatiana then spotted a flowerbed, and they made a detour to pick flowers. Scrutinizing the various flowers for her choice, Olga settled her gaze upon a cluster of light blue flowers: forget-me-nots. She picked it, and Tatiana noticed her choice, solemnly nodding in approval.

The seemingly calm faces of the Big Pair were just a facade, and it was one that took a strength to maintain while the memories of that fateful day about five years ago. It was their first experience with death.

"Olya, Tatya, are you two coming along?" Maria asked, running back to them.

"Yes, we were picking some flowers for Baby," Olga said.

"Oh," Maria said.

The three sisters returned to their parents who had reached the center of the gardens, crouching down in front of a marble headstone. Nicholas and Alexandra remained silent as they looked at the inscription upon the headstone.

_Here Lies Alexei Romanov_

_Our baby, never truly gone._

_August 12, 1904_

Olga placed down the forget-me-nots and whispered, "I brought you flowers, Baby."

Tatiana placed down a daffodil.

Maria and Anastasia lacked any flowers, but Anastasia, mischievous as usual, pulled out a cookie from the folds of her dress.

"Here is a cookie for you, Baby."

Before Anastasia could place down the cookie, Nicholas shook his head. The only way that his little imp could have taken a cookie was if she had snuck into the kitchen. He reminded Anastasia not to hoard cookies, but Alexandra approved of the gesture. She was touched that her youngest daughter went to such lengths to pay her respects.

"Let her pay her respects, Nicky," she said.

"Alright," Nicholas calmly said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rasputin might not appear in this story, as he was primarily accepted into the Romanov palace to treat Alexei's sickness. Without Alexei, there is no Rasputin.
> 
> Dmitri will be introduced in the next chapter, but his personality may be somewhat different to fit the plot of this story. Still, he will retain his sarcastic sense of humor and his stubbornness. I will enjoy writing his interactions with Anastasia.
> 
> When each of the OTMA sisters place their flowers at Alexei's grave, there is actually a meaning behind each flower! Forget-me-nots represent love. They also represent connections of relationships after death. Daffodils represent memory or remembrance in this context. I researched the flower meanings on the flowermeaning.com website.


	3. Meet Dmitri

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olga, now in her adolescence, continues her studies to expand her knowledge. She begins to notice that the reign of her father is far from perfect. On one winter day, a stray street orphan passes by the Alexander Palace grounds. A friendship will soon be born.

_December 17, 1909_

Months passed since the anniversary of Alexei's passing, and business within the palace returned to normal. During the Friday before the week of Christmas, the Romanov daughters spent much of the day roaming the palace and doing their hobbies. Anastasia and Maria played romance tunes on their balalaikas while they remained in their bedrooms. The Big Pair spent their time reading and taking lessons for English and French. Pierre, their foreign language tutor, smiled as Olga flawlessly read aloud a passage from _Les Miserables._

"Excellent. You speak with almost as much ease as a native Frenchwoman would," he said.

Olga smiled. Pierre faced Tatiana, and he asked her to read the same passage. She did so, but she stuttered over a few words. The Grand Duchess felt awkward, but Pierre nodded to encourage her. She sighed in relief. After an hour of attempts to speak French well, she had succeeded. Instead of berating the two sisters for their mistakes, the tutor remained patient with their efforts.

"That is all for today. Both of you are making great progress in speaking French. Next week, we will switch to writing in French."

"Thank you, Mister Pierre," both of the Big Pair sisters spoke.

Pierre left the study room, and as he disappeared around a corner, Olga packed her study materials, yawning. She looked at Tatiana and wondered if she could make her a consort in the future. Unlike Olga, Tatiana had the natural charisma of a leader, and she had a more controlled temper. Yet no matter her own doubts, Olga still received encouragement from her closest sister. Tatiana trusted that Olga would be a great ruler someday like her ancestor: Catherine the Great. The eldest Grand Duchess already knew half of _The Prince_ by Machiavelli and various works by some philosophers such as Voltaire. Acquiring a well-rounded mind was important for her, as gaining knowledge about politics and other languages could prove helpful in her future reign. Stemming her ignorance could help the future Tsarina make better decisions.

"Since we have been within our home for most of the day, we should walk in the gardens," Tatiana bluntly said.

"Yes, I am tired of being stuck inside this place! It is as if our parents are sheltering us from everything," Olga replied.

"You should not say such things. Mama and Papa really love us, they only want to keep us safe ever since Baby died. Without them, how could we live?"

"I know that they love us and that they want us to act and think like proper princesses, but..."

"But what?"

"We should have more chances to just be ourselves."

"You are being selfish, Olya."

"How am I selfish?" Olga exasperatingly said.

"You think of not what Mama and Papa wants, but only what you want. You only think about the self, not the group."

Looking at the clock on one of the desks, Olga sighed. She knew that Tatiana, despite her tendency to repeat the words of their parents, was right. She was a very intelligent and perceptive young princess, and she was a free thinker as well. Combined with her willful nature, her bright mind made a difficult combination of traits in a princess to tame. Reading works by other thinkers such as Niccolo and Hobbes only intensified her desire for independence. However, she knew that her family mattered the most, and she was still too young to truly find that independence. She could not be a single piece yet, but instead a part of the circle of her family. Together, she and her sisters were OTMA. A team.

After a few moments sauntering around the room, Olga looked through the windows facing the gardens. "You are right... we are a team, not a few strangers under the same roof."

Tatiana walked to a spot beside her sister, watching the first snowflakes begin to fall. "I am glad to hear that. At least until you become Tsarina, you are a part of us, even if we may not be perfect."

Olga thought of her father's blunders during his reign so far. "Yes," she said with an uncertain tone.

Tatiana noticed the uncertainty in the words that her sister spoke. She knew that something bothered Olga about her parents, and she wondered if they had done something wrong. She highly doubted that her mother or father had abused her sister, but something had happened a year ago. Could it be that she had read the grim reports of strikes and revolts?

"Olya, I know that something is bothering you... I want to help you," Tatiana softly spoke.

"I do not want to mention it."

"No, we need to speak about it. Since the year before, it is as if you are drifting away from us. You hardly speak to Mama and Papa, and you always seem so worried. Tell me about what troubles you!"

"Fine. It is about Papa."

"What about him?"

"I fear the worst for us. The people are angry because Papa did not help them... what if a coup happens?"

"That will not happen, Olya. Just calm yourself."

"I cannot, Papa is too stubborn."

"You are stubborn too. You cannot let go of your fears no matter how many times we tell you, that will _not_ happen," Tatiana said, crossing her arms.

Olga turned away and ignored her sister, feeling unsure. She wanted to reply with a witty counterargument, but her mind had gone blank. Again, her sister was right. Tatiana heard nothing but silence from her older sister, and she smiled. Despite being younger than her sister, she still was the Commandant of the Big Pair. Before Tatiana could further comment, Olga changed the subject.

"How about we avoid another argument we do not want? Since it is snowing outside, perhaps we could have a snowball fight with Mashka and Nastya."

Tatiana still wanted to argue, but she decided to drop the conversation. "Fine, I suppose that a snowball fight will help us... ease ourselves," she said a few moments later.

With a glimpse outside the windows, the Big Pair left the room. They were eager to take their minds off such grim subjects such as the possibility of an uprising. Making their way through the rooms and halls of the palace, Olga and Tatiana approached the bedrooms of their younger sisters, smiling when the sounds of the folk tune "Shine, Shine, My Star" echoed down the hallway. The somewhat off tune sounds were still discernible for the efforts of two young children. They knocked on the door, and the sounds stopped. Hearing the voices of The Little Pair coming closer, the two elder sisters stepped back from the door. The door opened, and Anastasia jumped over and over in excitement, hoping that she would play snow outside alongside her sisters. She would get her wish.

"Olya, Tatya, will we play with snow outside? Playing our balalaikas is getting _boring!_ " Anastasia said, pouting with her blue eyes.

Olga and Tatiana looked at each other, smiling before looking at Anastasia again. "Yes, we will!"

"Yay!"

After dressing into their snow jackets and thick pants, Olga and her sisters went to the front yard, which was covered with snow. They noticed that the snowfall was light. This made it convenient for them, as they would never need to worry about heavy snowfall obscuring the way back. Anastasia, of course, was the first to grab a handful of snow. Running some distance from her sisters, Anastasia was followed by Maria. They stopped running, and they tossed their snowballs after forming them. With a surprising velocity, the snowballs few towards their targets, hitting them. Olga yelped, flinching from the impact of the soft snow.

"You will pay, Nastya!" Olga said, smiling as she created a snowball.

In response, she received two snowballs in the face, and she stumbled backwards and dropped her snowball. Tatiana, not wanting to be left out of the action, tugged on Olga's right arm. Leading her elder sister some distance, Tatiana wiped the snow off of her sister's face, revealing a blushing Olga. They peeked behind their shoulders, and Tatiana gasped as another snowball hit her. Peals of laughter could be heard from the Little Pair until they were struck by a counter-barrage from the Big Pair.

"The game is on! First one to get hit ten times is a dirty Bolshevik!" Anastasia announced, wiping the snow off of her face.

"You two will lose for sure!" Olga taunted.

As all four grand duchesses laughed and threw snowballs, the guards could not help but briefly smile. Their lives were routine to the point of boredom, but watching the royal children play and enjoy their time entertained them. It reminded them of their childhood games of snowball fights. As a result, their duty hours became somewhat bearable. One guard, a dark-haired man, spotted a human figure approaching the front yards of the Alexander Palace grounds. As the figure walked closer, the guards observed that the figure was that of a young boy.

"Hey, stop!" the dark-haired guard yelled, approaching the boy.

* * *

Dimitri Ivanov, carrying a loaf of bread, stopped just on the front yard. He widened his brown eyes, as two guards armed with rifles approached him. Gulping, he hoped that the tall uniformed men would not assault him. He had heard stories of some guards brutalizing the passerby around the palace. Some of the peasants and townsfolk around Tsarskoe Selo were even robbed at gunpoint. The thought that the Tsar refused to reprimand his guards infuriated Dimitri, and he disliked the Tsar with a passion. Dimitri stepped back again, and both guards sneered at him.

"You have no place here, boy," a hazel-eyed, brunette guard spoke in a threatening tone.

"I- I mean no trouble sir," Dimitri stuttered, his hands trembling from fear.

"We will let you go if you give us that piece of bread. We are hungry."

"I cannot, sir. It is all I have for my lunch."

"Do. Not. Test. Us," the black haired guard said, gazing into the eyes of the scrawny boy.

As the brown-haired guard raised the butt of his rifle above the boy, the two guards heard one of the duchesses yell "Stop!"

The two guards turned in surprise to see Olga running towards them, and they bowed. "Stand up," the grand duchess commanded with a firm tone.

"Your Highness-"

"Leave the boy alone, if he wants to join our snowball fight, he _can_."

"Yes, Your Highness," the guards said, and they left Dimitri to return to their patrol positions.

After the guards had gone a considerable distance away, Olga gestured for DImitri to follow her. Dimitri shook his head. He said, "But I'm only a poor street urchin!"

"Well, I may be a Grand Duchess, but we are all just young children like you who want to enjoy life. Now follow me."

With reluctance, Dimitri followed Olga. Upon seeing their sister with a poor street orphan boy, the other three daughters had varying reactions. Anastasia and Maria beamed with smiles, feeling eager to have another playmate. Tatiana, unlike her two youngest sisters, raised an eyebrow. The sight of a commoner with her sister made her feel uneasy.

"Olya, why are you bringing this boy with you?" Tatiana asked.

"The guards were about to steal his bread, so I wanted to help him. I had to distract them."

"But that does not answer why you decided to actually bring the boy."

Olga sighed. "You should be happy that we have another playmate. We hardly even meet other children our age."

"Olya-"

"He _will_ play with us."

Tatiana gave an intense stare at Olga before relenting under her sister's gaze. "Fine, but you will have to talk with Papa after this."

Dimitri looked at Anastasia, who smirked. "Ready to lose to a girl?" she said.

"You wish! I'll be joining your older sisters here, so it will be a three to two game!" Dimitri replied.

At once, the Big Pair, Dimitri, and the Little Pair took their positions. They soon began to throw a barrage of snowballs at each other, and The Little Pair found themselves overwhelmed especially by the well-aimed shots of Dimitri. Ducking under a flying snowball, Maria looked at her younger sister and gasped. Anastasia had found a small rock on the ground, and she placed it within a snowball. A feeling of dread washed over Maria, and she tried to voice her disapproval. Anastasia lobbed the snowball forward with a frightening speed before Maria could speak.

Olga looked up, and she opened her mouth to warn Tatiana, but it was too late. The incoming projectile of rock and snow impacted with the forehead of Tatiana, who cried out in pain. Clutching her forehead, Tatiana felt blood on her fingers. Lifting her hand, she knew that she had a wide, bleeding cut. Dimitri rushed to his wounded teammate, and he looked at Olga with his hazel brown eyes widened with fright. Across the front lawn, Anastasia could be seen looking at the ground in shame. Maria appeared to be talking to her younger sister, but the words could not be discerned over the winter breezes.

"Maria, get Papa and Doctor Botkin!" Olga loudly spoke.

At once, Maria got up and ran across the front yard, where the front doors opened. Nicholas stepped outside, and he was shocked to see Tatiana lying on the ground. For once, the Tsar of the Russian Empire felt fear within his heart. He had lost his son. He would not let his daughters experience harm. Nicholas ran towards where Tatiana laid on the frigid snow. Alexandra, following behind Nicholas, ran towards the Big Pair and their new playmate.

"Oh, Tatiana, what happened to you?" Alexandra cried out when she reached Tatiana.

Dimitri held his handkerchief over the cut to soak up the blood, and that gesture of goodwill did not get unnoticed by the Tsarina.

"Thank you, little one. What is your name?" the Tsarina asked.

"Dimitri, Your Majesty," the boy said, bowing.

"Nice to meet you, Dimitri. Now, please tell me who did this, if you did not do this."

Dimitri stopped bowing, and looked at Anastasia. "Umm... the short girl."

Nicholas, narrowing his eyes, yelled, "Anastasia Romanov, come here!"

Anastasia and Maria ran to their father, who wore an angry scowl. His brown eyes boiled with anger. The Little Pair hardly saw their father lose his temper, but at that moment, they cowered in fear. Even Olga looked away from her father, who teetered on the edge of self-control. Nicholas pointed at Tatiana while he gazed into the blue eyes of his youngest daughter.

"My shvibzik, did you do this?" he said.

Anastasia felt a sinking feeling in her legs, as if they had turned into melting butter. "Sorry, Papa. I thought the rock was too small to hurt Tatya."

"Look at her! Does she look fine to you?"

" _Nyet_ , Papa, "Anastasia said in an almost whisper.

Only then did the Tsar notice Dimitri, who nervously looked away as well. He did not want to scare the boy, so he took a deep breath to calm himself.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"His name is Dimitri," his wife said.

"Well, it is good to meet a young boy like you. I am glad that you are helping our little Tatiana here."

"You're welcome, Your Majesty," Dimitri said.

"Good. Now, let us go inside... we shall introduce ourselves later."


	4. Chastised

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dmitri is welcomed into the Alexander Palace while the Romanov couple punish their youngest daughter. The Tsar offers Dmitri a place as a kitchen servant. He accepts the offer, beginning a new life. Meanwhile, an infamous revolutionary begins to consider his revenge against the Romanovs..

Tatiana was led to her bedroom by her parents, sisters, and a blonde-haired guard. Dmitri followed close behind them, holding his loaf of bread. The walls were covered in intricate designs of gold and white paint, and the floors were carpeted. The crimson red made him think of the spilled blood of Bloody Sunday. However, he could not voice his dissent, as he would be thrown out of the palace or even branded as a traitor to Russia. The thought almost made him quiver. Dmitri instead turned his attention to the well decorated interior of the palace. 18th and 19th century paintings hung on the wall beside a portrait of Alexander the Third. Although the street orphan disliked the Tsar, he could not help but enjoy the presence of the Romanov daughters. As they were royalty, they had been raised well with good manners, and they were kind enough to allow him, a mere commoner, to play with them.

As Tatiana got into her cot, her mother kissed her on the cheek. "Stay here, my child. I will fetch Doctor Botkin here."

As Olga and Maria faced their youngest sister, they began to lecture her about the rocky snowball incident.

"Nastya, why did you do _that_ to Tatya?" Olga asked, crossing her arms.

"I- I do not know."

"Whatever the reason, you still did something wrong. We know that Papa is angry with you."

"I am sorry."

"Tell that to Papa, not us," Olga said, gesturing to her father who sat beside Tatiana.

After ensuring that Tatiana was comfortable in her bed, Nicholas and Alexandra both approached Anastasia. They looked at Anastasia with gazes of disapproval. The youngest Grand Duchess felt dread within herself. Never before had the young vivacious girl faced something that instilled fear into her. She looked at Dmitri for a defendant, but he looked away instead of giving a sympathetic look. Her other three sisters also wore looks of disapproval like those of her parents.

"My little shvibzik, I am disappointed with you. Now, we will talk and discuss your punishment in our bedroom."

After lecturing his youngest daughter, Nicholas looked at Dmitri, saying, "We can talk after I deal with our youngest. You may stay here, but do not wander, or else you will be lost within the palace."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Dmitri replied, and he was surprised to see such hospitality and kindness from the Tsar and his family despite the terrible rumors about them.

"At least you know your honorifics, boy. I am glad to have your respect. You may talk with our daughters here. Sergei over here will keep watch."

The royal couple led Anastasia out of the bedroom, leaving Dmitri behind with the rest of the Grand Duchesses and the lone guard. The guard, Sergei, looked at the boy intently. Sergei carried a pistol within his pocket, and Dmitri knew the guard did not fool around. Taking a deep breath, Dmitri attempted to calm himself. He looked at the floor, as he still felt nervous.

Olga broke the silence. "So, Dmitri, how are you feeling today?"

"Well, I'm not cold anymore," Dmitri joked, managing a smile.

"You are a funny boy," Maria said, as Olga laughed.

"My father often said I was funny. That was before he was... taken away."

"By who?"

"Some policemen took him to prison, and I do not know why," Dmitri said, and his facial expression became a frown.

"We are sorry to hear that," Tatiana softly spoke.

"Thanks, I have almost no one to talk to except for the other poor children who live on the streets. It is hard enough to even get this. Everyday, I risk my safety by stealing bread and picking pockets," Dmitri said, pointing to his loaf of bread.

His three new accomplices looked at him with sympathetic expressions. As Grand Duchesses living a sheltered life in the Alexander Palace, they remained ignorant of the hardships that the working class faced. Even though all four of the Romanov daughters lived simply, they were still surprised at the testimony of the commoner boy they had just brought in. As Dmitri explained his circumstances in detail, Maria felt her eyes water, and the Big Pair looked at the boy with sadder expressions.

"I wish I could help you," Maria said, placing her hand on his shoulder.

"I am fine, at least I have this bread. I spent almost all of my change for just that one loaf," Dmitri said, taking a bite from his bread.

Olga went to the bed and checked on Tatiana. She frowned, as she noticed that the cut on her sister's forehead began to inflame. Clenching her fists, Olga was angered towards her youngest sibling. If Anastasia had known better than to place a rock in the snowball, her sister would not have been injured. Despite her anger, Olga knew that she could not blame her youngest sister. As to be expected, her sister was the troublemaker of the family. Maria, of course, was sweet and gentle. She was the romantic, and Anastasia the prankster of the family. Her pranks never caused much damage or harm, but placing a rock inside a snowball was inexcusable.

Before Dmitri could speak again, he heard the screams of a little girl. Maria raised her head when she realized what was happening. Her little sister was being chastised by her strict mother. Against their rationale, Maria and Dmitri walked just outside the bedroom. Sergei shook his head, and he spoke.

"Your Highness, your father told you to stay within this room."

"Do not worry, Sergei. It is only a few steps to Mama's bedroom," Maria said.

"Alright, do not go too far."

Before Dmitri and Maria could walk any further, they were stopped by Olga.

"Mashka, I think you should not bother Mama and Papa. Nastya's been quite naughty today, so she needs a good... spanking," Olga whispered.

"A spanking? But, Nastya always gets away with things!"

"Yes, but not this time..."

Maria shook her head, and she led Dmitri closer to her mother's bedroom. Listening closely, they could hear smacks from behind the door. Eventually, the noises ceased, and sobbing could be heard. Feeling sympathy for the chastised young girl, Dmitri wanted to hug her, but he did not want to disturb the royal couple.

* * *

With her blue eyes dripping tears, Anastasia sobbed on her mother's lap while she was embraced by her father. He wore a frown, as he did not enjoy punishing his daughters. Despite being seen a callous ruler by his subjects, he was a caring, tender man. The situation, however, needed drastic measures according to his Sunny. She had been strictly disciplined before by her parents in Hesse, and she would ensure that her children were disciplined well. The thought of her children running off to behave like the crude, lower class commoners bothered her, and she inwardly shuddered at the thought.

"Mama... it hurts," Anastasia moaned.

"I know, my child. But what did you do?" Alexandra asked.

"I- I put a r-rock in the snowball."

"And what else?"

"I hurt T-Tatya w-with it."

"So, now you know. We only want to make sure that none of you hurt each other, especially since Baby left us," Alexandra tenderly spoke.

"A princess like you must be a good girl." Nicholas said, wiping the tear-streaked cheeks of his youngest child.

"Y- Yes, I promise."

"Not to do what?"

"To throw rocks at anybody."

"Good, Anastasia, we will give you a cookie, as you have learned your lesson today."

"Really?"

"Yes, remember that your Papa and Mama love you with all their hearts, little shvibzik," Nicholas said.

"I love you too, Papa and Mama."

Nicholas gave his wife and youngest daughter a hug. When Anastasia ceased to sob, her parents led her to the door before opening it. They were surprised to see Dmitri and Maria standing beside the door, frozen in fear. Alexandra opened her mouth to lecture Maria, but Nicholas shook his head.

"Do not worry, we will not punish you two," he said.

Maria and Dmitri sighed in relief. Dmitri remembered in an instant the upcoming conversation he would have with Tsar Nicholas the Second. He did not dare remind the Tsar, as such an action would insult his authority. Although Dmitri did not like the Tsar, he could not bring himself to act hostile towards him. In the meantime, he would respect the Tsar. He hoped that his lifestyle would improve, as he tired of scrounging in the streets for food. As Alexandra led Maria back to Tatiana's bedroom, a brown-haired man arrived, carrying a suitcase. Towering over Dmitri by a height of three heads, he looked down at the boy. The fact that a commoner boy was allowed into the palace intrigued but confused him.

"Your Majesty, may I ask what a commoner boy is doing here?"

"I tolerate his presence, as he helped my little Tatiana by dabbing her injury with a cloth to absorb the blood. For his helpfulness, he is welcome in my home."

Botkin hummed as he considered the words of his Tsar. "I see. Now, is your daughter in bed?"

"Yes," Nicholas said, and he led Botkin to the bedroom.

Both Nicholas and Alexandra entered the bedroom alongside Doctor Botkin. Setting down his suitcase, the doctor pulled out a bottle of rubbing alcohol and bandages. He stepped over to Tatiana and he placed on his gloves before checking her temperature. After seeing that his patient lacked a fever, he soaked a cotton balli in the alcohol and rubbed it on the cut. Tatiana closed her eyes shut from the sting of the alcohol. Finally, the doctor placed the bandages.

"You are fortunate that your daughter has not developed an infection from her wound. Otherwise, treatment would be difficult. May I know exactly how she received the injury?"

"Our youngest daughter decided to throw a snowball with a sharp rock within it. Do not worry, Doctor Botkin, we have already chastised her."

The doctor nodded, and said "Good. I recommend that you both supervise your children, as you never know what they may do unseen."

Botkin faced Dmitri. "What is your name?"

"Dmitri, sir."

"Ah, Dmitri. My name is Eugene Botkin. You may refer to me as Doctor Botkin."

"You may leave, we appreciate your service," Nicholas said.

After Doctor Botkin packed his medical supplies and left the room, Nicholas decided that he would talk with the boy in private. He gestured for Dmitri and Sergei to follow him. They made their way to the bedroom of the Tsar, and after going inside it, Nicholas told the guard to keep watch at the door.

Before doing so, the guard said, "Yes, Your Majesty."

Sergei stood outside the door of the bedroom, and he scratched his blond hair in confusion. He did not hold any traitorous feelings for his Tsar, as he was proud to serve him. However, the reason why the Tsar, the ruler of all Russia, would invite a lowly street boy into the palace was a mystery to him. Despite no suspicious activity from the boy, he could not help feeling wary of Dmitri. Nicholas closed the door, and Sergei was left to stand alone in the hallway. Within the room, Dmitri prepared to converse with the Tsar of Russia himself.

"So, I can see that you have enough trouble getting food and money. I and my family are very sorry to see that," Nicholas quietly said.

"Yes, Your Majesty, I am forced to steal bread sometimes, and I am too young to go to prison. My Mama and Papa are gone too..." Dmitri said, looking at the floor with a saddened look in his eyes.

"Well, there is an offer I can give you. We are a few servants short, so we urgently need additional help."

"You mean..."

"Yes, I am asking you if you want to become a kitchen servant."

Dmitri took a deep breath. This decision would change his life in a permanent manner. Soon, he would either remain impoverished and hungry on the streets of St. Petersburg or find his first job in the home of the Romanovs. He still felt upset with the Tsar because he decreed the arrests of revolutionaries including his father, but he abhorred the idea of sleeping on the dirty streets. He thought for a few moments, as the Tsar sat patiently on his bed and waited for a response. Finally, he made his decision.

"I accept your offer," Dmitri replied, giving a mild smile at the Tsar.

"Then I welcome you into our home. May your days be full of good company and comfort," Nicholas said, patting Dmitri on the shoulder.

As Dmitri took his first step into a new life, trouble brewed in the bustling cities of Holy Rus.

* * *

"Gleb, my son. Come here."

"Yes, Papa."

Gleb Vaganov, a dark-haired, brown-eyed boy, looked up from his book. He placed down the book, which was titled _The Communist Manifesto_. As he rushed down the hallway from his bedroom, he wondered what his father wanted. Entering the kitchen of the Vaganov-owned apartment, he saw his father with a bitter scowl on his face. Mikhail Vaganov was a bitter man since the arrest of his wife two years ago for traitorous activities. He felt angry with the Tsar for failing to meet the demands of the people, and he hated the aristocracy for manipulating the Romanovs to uphold their indifference to their subjects and the subversion of protests. He clenched his fists, crumpling the newspaper before tossing it into the trash can with perfect aim.

"Do you know what day it is, my son?" he spoke with a serious tone, dripping with anger.

"I know, Papa. Mama was taken away by the bad men."

"Yes, Gleb, the bad people, including that _podonok_ of a Tsar and his four little royal bitches."

"Will we take them off their thrones, Papa? Will Russia be free someday?"

"Someday, no matter how long it takes. No matter what must be done."

"How about Mama?"

"Yes, Gleb, we will get Mama back, and we will be together once as a family again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not know for certain if the Romanovs actually used corporal punishment on their children, as the sources did not go into such details. It is a possibility given how the girls were raised with Victorian moral standards.
> 
> Gleb Vaganov is actually from the play, but I decided to put him in anyway. He will remain in a minor role until the 1920s or 30s. He will be much more ruthless and cunning once he grows up, so I doubt that he will hesitate to kill. He will definitely be a worthy opponent of our future Tsarina!


	5. Dima and Nastya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chastised Anastasia goes to a certain kitchen servant for comfort.

Even one week after the snowball incident, Anastasia refrained from her pranks and remained silent for much of the time. Maria, her older sister, was disturbed by this. Her younger sister was always the energetic one of the Romanov family, scheming of another prank or joking with Maria. After her lecture and chastisement from her parents, Anastasia was not the same. This was the first time that the vivacious, willful young girl had taken a punishment seriously. Despite Maria complaining that something was wrong with her younger sister, her mother dismissed the strange behavior as her youngest child growing up. When confronted about Anastasia, the Big Pair only repeated what their mother said, but Olga seemed more sympathetic.

Maria woke up next to Anastasia that morning to find that she did not speak with as much energy. The sight of her younger sister with a fearful look in her eyes saddened Maria. Sitting up in her cot, Anastasia looked at the floor, and her blue eyes were dull. Something was still wrong with her sister. It was not like her younger sister to keep silent for most of the day. It was not like her younger sister to refrain from any mischief, especially hoarding cookies from every lunch.

"Nastya?" Maria said, the worry evident in her tone.

Maria was met with a tired look from her sister. "Good morning, Mashka," Anastasia said.

"Do you want to run outside with me before breakfast is ready?"

"No, I do not feel like it."

Maria was disappointed. She had attempted throughout the week to coax the old Nastya out of the facade of an obedient, submissive princess. It was apparent that the spanking had done something to her. For a ten year old, Maria knew what it was, but she did not know the word to describe it.

After dressing into her winter clothing, Maria went to the palace gardens to clear her mind in the early hours of the morning. She walked to the garden ponds to watch the geese float on the tranquil surface of the water. The geese floating on the water reminded Maria of when she and her younger sister went to feed the geese. A memory flashed in her mind. She smiled upon remembering the sweet memory of she and Anastasia idling by the garden ponds. Without any concern about the troubles of life, they had enjoyed themselves that time. Lost in her thoughts, she failed to notice the sound of approaching footsteps on the paved paths.

"Oh, Mashka! I did not know you went on a walk! Mama is wondering where you have been!" Olga spoke, abruptly stopping in surprise.

"I know... I went here to relax," Maria said.

"That is fine. You have not been here for a long time?"

"Yes, I just got here, the pond where little Nastya and I fed the birds," Maria said with a sigh, bending over to flick pebbles into the pond.

Olga remained silent for a moment, watching her sister toss pebbles into the pond. The geese quacked from being disturbed, and they flapped their wings, soaring into the gray winter sky. Maria smiled, but it did not last long.

"I know you are bothered by something. If it helps you can tell me what it is," she said.

"It is Nastya. You must know that something is wrong with her."

"She is more quiet than usual."

"But... she's not doing pranks anymore! She never laughs anymore!"

"I know that too, but what is wrong with-"

"She is not herself, where is the Nastya I know?" Maria said in desperation, looking at Olga with sadness written on her face.

"In the palace, sitting in her bedroom. Perhaps she has changed, but for the better."

"What? You are saying the same things that Mama and Tatya says. _Oh, it is normal... she is growing up._ "

Olga was speechless. Her sister was partly right on the issue of her youngest sister's uncharacteristic behavior. She considered both sides of the issue before her reply. As expected of a young child, fear often worked well in keeping children obedient. However, ruling through fear alone was not an appropriate way of parenting. She felt that a parent would be better loved than feared. If she were honest with herself, she missed the old Nastya who played pranks to bring happiness to her family.

"You are right, I might be making up reasons to persuade myself. Actually, I miss Nastya's laughter and pranks," Olga said.

"I say that we should cheer her up, we would do anything to get our old Nastya back," Maria said.

"Of course! How about getting Dimitri and little Nastya together as friends?"

Maria looked at the still surface of the pond, deep in thought. "That will work, I think she needs someone to be... comfortable with."

"But there is a risk. What if Papa finds out about their friendship, if they do become friends?"

"That will not happen, Olya. Do not worry, Papa trusts Dimitri."

"What about Mama? She is stricter than Papa."

"Then I will talk to Mama."

"But you will get in trouble!"

"I do not care about that," Maria said, shaking her head.

Olga sighed, giving in to the intentions of her sister. "Alright, Mashka. I hope that nothing goes wrong with this plan."

Standing up, the girls glanced at the palace. Both Olga and Maria believed that their youngest sister's vivacious spirit was not broken. Instead it was dormant, waiting to be rekindled. Dimitri and Maria would be that spark to rekindle the fire of their father's shvibzik.

They both returned to their home, and they entered the door to see their parents waiting for them. Alexandra smiled as she saw her other two daughters approach her. For the Tsarina, having a houseful of four willful children was a nightmare. That was no longer the case, as her youngest child had ceased her bothersome pranks. She felt happy that her discipline had worked. It seemed to be a major accomplishment in her parenting. On the other hand, Nicholas did not smile. He disagreed with how his wife had disciplined his little shvibzik, and he knew that the spanking had traumatized the hapless young girl. A simple grounding would be acceptable rather than corporal punishment.

"It is good to see that you both are safe. Now, let us enjoy breakfast," Alexandra said.

The Romanovs made their way to the Crimson Dining Room, and the guards opened the doors for them to enter. The room was only fourteen meters on each side: a small size for the dining room of a royal family. In the center of the room, a table covered by a white tablecloth stood with eight chairs surrounding it. A white painted wooden cabinet with ornate carvings was on the left side of the room. Nicholas smiled as he saw the two servants, Anton and Dimitri, bow.

"You may rise. I thank you for your service today," he said.

Anton and Dimitri nodded and they turned to walk out of the room. Before he stepped through the open door, Dimitri glanced back at Anastasia, and he still felt disappointed that she was still withdrawn. Her blue eyes did not hold that inner fire. Her delicate little mouth did not curve into a smile. All the kitchen boy received was a quick glance before Anastasia looked away. He did notice a subtle nod from Maria, and he knew that she knew. He left the room, and he made his way back to the kitchen where he was expected to fulfill his duties. The duties as a kitchen boy were simple: carrying dish ingredients to the cooks and helping bake the cookies. However, he wished for something to make his off duty hours more lively. He needed a friend.

Back within the dining room, the royal couple and their children took their seats and prayed for the meal. After doing so, they began to eat, and it was again noticeable that Anastasia remained silent. Instead of paying attention to Anastasia, Alexandra talked with her beloved Nicky about various topic including the location of their next vacation.

"Well, we have not been to Livadia with our girls for over four years!" Nicholas said.

"I think that a cruise in the Standart would make a splendid vacation," Alexandra said.

"Ah, yes. I will consider that. But, we must do something about the riots in St. Petersburg, or else we cannot go to the port."

"You have a point, my dear."

"So, we should go to Livadia instead. It is safer there, and the weather is pleasant, unlike the snowstorms here in Tsarskoe Selo."

Alexandra shook her head, and said, "No, Nicky. There is still a risk of riots anywhere in our empire... Livadia is no better."

"I assure you, my love, that we will be safe there. I will ensure that the guards follow us when we go there," Nicholas reassured, holding his wife's hands.

"Papa, are we going to Livadia?" Maria asked, smiling in excitement.

"Yes, we are, but I do not know when we will."

Maria, who sat next to Anastasia, spoke to her. "Do you hear that, Nastya? We will go to Livadia!"

Anastasia smiled. "Really?"

"Yeah! Maybe we can build sand castles like Olya and Tatya did last time!"

The rest of breakfast passed without any problems, as Anastasia did not hoard any cookies or play any more pranks. She went to her bedroom again, and she laid on her bed. She desired to play pranks on her sisters again, but she feared another spanking from her strict mother. Instead of doing pranks, the youngest Grand Duchess needed to find other activities for her enjoyment. Her mind started to think about Dimitri, and she felt comforted by the thought. He was stubborn like her, and he had never condemned her for her pranks, even the rocky snowball. Would he make a good friend? The two had much in common.

As Anastasia remained in her bedroom, Maria went to the hallway with the servant quarters. She checked a few rooms until she found the room where Dimitri resided, and she knocked on the door, looking around to ensure that her mother was not nearby.

"Almost ready, just wait," Dimitri said.

Dimitri took off his kitchen apron before tossing it into his drawer, and he changed out of his kitchen rubber shoes. After a few moments, he was ready to meet his visitor. Opening the door, he nearly jumped in surprise. In front of him stood the Grand Duchess Maria.

"Can we talk here?" she whispered, looking around the hallway again.

"Yes, Your Highness," Dimitri replied.

"You can say my name. We are not in a ceremony or anything like that."

"Yeah, I see. Just come in," Dimitri said, gesturing for Maria to enter his quarters.

Once Maria entered the room, Dimitri closed the door before asking, "So, what do you want to talk about? I saw that you nodded at me earlier, so is it about your sister?"

"Yeah, I just want to ask you something."

"You, a Grand Duchess, asking me, a kitchen boy?"

"Of course, I only want my little sister to have a friend. I have seen you often look at her, and my sister looks at you a lot too. If you two want, you can both be friends with each other. Both of you look pretty lonely."

"What? But she's a princess, and I'm a kitchen boy!"

"That does not matter. All I care about is getting my old Nastya back," Maria said.

"Alright, if we become friends, then how could I do that?" Dimitri asked with a confused expression.

"Just cheer her up. I _trust_ you, Dimitri."

Dimitri felt flattered. A Grand Duchess, of all people, was asking him for a favor! He grinned, knowing that he had been given approval to befriend his person of his interest: Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova, the youngest Grand Duchess of Russia.

"Okay, Maria. I promise you that I will be the best friend for her."

* * *

In the middle of tuning her small guitar, Anastasia heard a knock on her door. She wondered if her visitor was her sister or her father. The thought of her mother at her door frightened her, making goosebumps rise on her back. Few things had scared Anastasia before, but now her mother did thanks to the corporal punishment. Slowly, she stepped to the door. She heard more knocks, and she opened the door to see her sister Maria and the kitchen boy. Sighing in relief, she greeted Dimitri.

"Hello, Dimitri... wait. Are you supposed to be in your room? What would Mama or Papa think?"

"Do not worry, Maria is with me. She wanted me to come here," Dimitri answered.

"Why?"

"I... uh..."

"Come on, kitchen boy! Just say it!" Anastasia said, tapping her foot with impatience.

"Can we be friends?"

Anastasia widened her eyes in disbelief. "I never thought you would say that! Really, you want to be my friend?"

"Sure! I'm a lonely boy too, you know. I guess princesses can be friends with kitchen boys," Dimitri said.

"But can they marry them?"

Dimitri blushed. "Uh..."

"Whatever, of course I will be your friend!"

Anastasia looked at Maria and asked, "Mashka, if we get caught together, can you and Olya tell Papa and Mama that it is okay?"

"No problem, Nastya," Maria reassured her youngest sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some people say that corporal punishment traumatizes children, so I wanted to illustrate this effect here for extra realism.
> 
> Do not worry, she will get better as the story progresses.


	6. Good Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Romanovs quickly accept Dmitri into the ranks of their palace staff, and things continue as usual. Olga reminisces over a dashing young officer she met years ago.

_March 3, 1910_

"Anastasia, can you read the last few sentences of this page?" Pierre asked the young princess.

"Alright," Anastasia mumbled, not bothering to stifle a yawn.

"Just those last few sentences, and you and your sister will be finished for the day."

Anastasia began to recite the paragraph within the book written in French. She managed to read it aloud, but she stuttered over a few words. She looked at Maria, who smiled back before reciting the same paragraph. To combat the boredom of studying French and English with their tutors, they had a secret competition. One would attempt to do better than the other at speaking the foreign languages. Maria read aloud the paragraph with only a single stutter, and she smirked at her youngest sister. In response, Anastasia stuck her tongue out at her sister who rolled her eyes.

"Please behave, you two. At least you have finished your session for the day. Now, I must go tutor your two older sisters, so do not do anything foolish to upset your parents," Pierre said, packing up the book and his notes into his bag.

"Of course, Monsieur Pierre," Anastasia said, crossing her fingers behind her back.

As Pierre left the study room, Anastasia sighed. "You _always_ win, Mashka."

"No, you beat me during the chapter before. Also, you can silent read faster than me," Maria said.

"But..."

"You need to be serious about your studying, Nastya, if you want to win."

"But studying is so _boring,_ I could drop dead!"

"You are a princess, and me too. Both of us will need to speak to other leaders of other countries, so we need to study English and French."

"I do not care. I would rather play with snow outside, if Mama let me," Anastasia said.

"You can follow me. We will find something else to do," Maria replied, taking her sister by the hand.

Maria led Anastasia out of the study room, and they went through various hallways decorated with classical paintings. Eventually, they reached the Mauve Room. The Grand Duchesses often spent time within that room learning how to knit, listening to records, and playing the piano. Nothing had been moved or remodeled. The wallpaper still bore a striped yellow design, and a large portrait of their father hung above the cabinets and shelves. The only thing that seemed to be different was a new framed photograph of the first summer of the Romanovs at Livadia in 1905. Picking up the framed photo, Maria laughed from a memory of their first time in Livadia. Anastasia, still mischievous as a four year old, had kicked apart the sandcastle that Olga spent hours making.

_"Olya, finish the main tower," Tatiana commanded._

_"I just did, Tatya," her sister replied, standing up from the sandy ground._

_Stepping back from the castle, she could not resist smiling. The castle that the Big Pair created was a masterpiece with tall towers, well-formed crenellations, and a moat around it. They marveled at the results of their hours of work, and they turned to look at their parents sitting on their beach chairs._

_"Mama, Papa, look at our sand castle!"_

_Looking up from her book, Alexandra glanced at the castle and nodded. Nicholas instead got up from his chair and he walked over the warm, soft sand, savoring the cool and salty sea breeze. The sun bathed him in warm sunlight, and he wished that he could enjoy more summers as a family with his daughters and his beloved wife. Of all the roles of his life, he desired to be a father first._

_"That looks perfect! How about we take a picture?" Nicholas said._

_"Yes!" both of the Big Pair sisters shouted._

_Sometime later, Nicholas and Pierre placed the camera in front of Olga and Tatiana as they stood beside their sand castle. In the distance, Alexandra and the Little Pair were walking towards them, but Anastasia was running straight towards the sand castle. Nicholas widened his eyes when he realized the devious intentions of hi youngest daughter._

_"Smile!" he said, and The Big Pair smiled, not knowing what would happen in a few seconds._

_The camera clicked, and the photo was taken. To the surprise and displeasure of The Big Pair, they watched as Anastasia laughed as she stomped towards their creation. Before Olga could warn her sister to stop, Anastasia jumped onto the sand castle, imitating a roar in the process. It was soon a disorganized heap of sand as the enthusiastic four year old kicked apart the castle. The Big Pair sisters were furious, and they scowled at Anastasia._

_"Nastya!" Olga yelled, and Anastasia looked up with her blue eyes, whimpering with a quivering mouth._

_"Oh no, she is about to cry," Tatiana thought, losing her scowl._

_Nicholas knew what was about to happen, and he attempted the change the subject. "All of us can play in the water!"_

_"Really?" Anastasia said, ceasing her whimpering._

_"Yes, as soon as your Mama and your sister comes here."_

After her brief reminiscing, Maria decided to continue talking with her youngest sister. To restore the happiness her sister lacked for a few weeks, she would mention the best memories of their family vacations. The sandcastle incident was one of them.

"I remember that I kicked apart Olya and Tatya's sandcastle. They were so angry with me!" Anastasia said before laughing.

"Yeah, her face was as red as a tomato!" Maria spoke, and she snickered.

Maria and Anastasia took their seats around the small table in the Mauve Room. They spoke more about their first trip to Livadia, laughing whenever one of them said a joke. As they enjoyed their time in the Mauve Room, Dimitri continued to work in the kitchen. Carrying a bag of potatoes, he made his way to the kitchen storage room, huffing out a breath as he placed the bag down. He thought about his newfound friend, Anastasia. The first meeting in The Little Pair's bedroom had gone well, as Dimitri and Anastasia managed to talk to each other. Anastasia, between tears, told Dimitri her feelings about her parents since the corporal punishment. She loved her parents, but fear still prevented her from spending more time with them. Both daughter and mother had become estranged. Before he could think more about his friend, he was disturbed.

"Are you finished, boy?" the cook called out from the kitchen.

Dimitri snapped out of his flashback. "Yes, Mister Leonid!"

After Dimitri returned to the kitchen, Leonid said, "Alright, boy, that is all for these hours. It is break time now... you have half an hour until one past noon."

The young kitchen boy nodded and left the kitchen for his quarters. He arrived in his quarters, and he shut himself inside his room. Looking at the clock within his room, he knew that the Big Pair were being tutored in English by Sidney Gibbs. He also knew that the Little Pair had finished their French tutoring for the day. For certain they would be frolicking in their bedroom or somewhere else in the palace. Despite his desire to see Anastasia again, he knew that the guards would be suspicious of a kitchen boy going towards the bedrooms of the Grand Duchesses. Dimitri sighed, staring at a blue scarf that the Little Pair had given him. Even under the same roof, they were still separated by birthright. He was a lowly kitchen boy and his friend a princess.

Picking up the scarf, he wore it around his neck to savor the feeling of soft cotton. Dimitri looked at his simple bedside table before picking up a blank journal, a gift from Olga. He picked up a pencil, and he wrote his first entry in it. Thanks to some tutoring by the Big Pair, Dimitri could write.

_March 3, 1910_

_Today was long. I worked in the kitchen from seven until noontime, and I'm exhausted. I can only wish that I will get to see my new friend, Anya (Nastya), during break time. She said that I can call her by her name instead of Your Highness..._

After finishing his entry, Dimitri heard a knock on the door. "Could it be Anya?" he thought.

He opened the door to see Anastasia and Maria dressed in their plain white dresses. Anastasia wore a grin on her face, and Dimitri was happy to see that he had helped her regain some of her liveliness. He opened the door even wider to allow the two princesses within his quarters, and they entered the room. Peeking his head outside the room, he looked around the hallway to check for any incoming people. He could not afford to lose his job and friendship with his newfound friend. If the royal couple found him and the Little Pair together, a disaster would occur.

Closing the door, Dimitri began to speak, wondering how his new friends lived in comparison to his life as a kitchen servant. "So, Anya..."

"Yes?"

"How were the French lessons? Boring? Fun?"

"Both, whenever we are bored, we try to see who can do better than the other," Maria said.

"Yeah, and she wins much more than I do," Anastasia added.

"Well, do you study? I thought princesses had to learn all kinds of languages."

"Of course, Dima. Mama makes us learn them in case we marry some other prince from another country," Maria said, gazing away from Dimitri.

"And... when I do get married... I will have twenty children," Maria slowly whispered in his ear with a dreamy look in her eyes.

Dimitri, who was uncomfortable with the closeness of Maria, backed away from her. He did not dislike Maria in any way, but she acted strange when expressing her dreams of motherhood. Maria giggled when Dimitri pulled himself away from her.

"Does twenty children seem like too much for you?" Dimitri said, wearing a confused expression on his face.

"No," Maria replied, shaking her head.

"Well, good luck feeding _twenty_ mouths and changing _twenty_ diapers."

"Uh..."

Silence passed, and Dimitri smirked, enjoying the conversation. "If you do get to have twenty children, who would be their Papa?"

"I think Louis would be my future hubby."

Anastasia grimaced, saying "Ew! He is your cousin!"

Dimitri turned a shade of green. He did not mind the lovesick dreams of the second youngest Grand Duchess, but he did not like the thought of inbreeding. While the Little Pair and their friend chattered in the quarters, the Big Pair were still being tutored.

"Can you read this passage, Olga?" Sidney Gibbs spoke, pointing to the page of a book.

Olga took a deep breath before reading the paragraph. She hesitated when pronouncing a word she had never heard before. Sidney nodded, approving for her to ask a question.

"What does esoteric mean?" she asked.

"It describes something not well known," Sidney said.

Olga nodded. Sitting beside her closest sister, she read her passage again in silence. Tatiana was asked by the English tutor to read the same passage that Olga had read, and she did as told. Unlike the Little Pair, the Big Pair took their education seriously, sometimes studying in their mere two hours of leisure time. Olga, realizing the importance of acquiring a well rounded mind, started to read books in different languages such as English and French. Different topics besides politics were covered as well: history and math.

Sidney hummed in approval. Smoothing his blonde hair with his hands, he looked at both Olga and Tatiana. His blue eyes brightened, as he was happy that a lesson had passed without complaints or any other misbehavior.

"Alright, I would like your written exercises. I will check them and return them to you both tomorrow," he said.

"Yes, Mister Gibbs," both Olga and Tatiana said.

After they had given their papers to Sidney, he winked at them before saying goodbye. "I will see you two tomorrow. Make sure to take care of yourselves."

"Goodbye," both girls said.

Tatiana looked at Olga, who sighed. She knew something was bothering her sister, and she wanted to help her resolve it. As the moodiest of all the Romanov daughters, she often was bothered by various things. The dreamful look in her light blue eyes reminded Tatiana of the lovestruck gazes of her younger sister, Maria. Could her oldest sister have a crush?

"Olya, can we talk in our bedroom?" Tatiana asked her sister.

Olga stopped gazing at the wall. "Uh, of course!"

Both sisters went to their bedroom. As soon as they entered it, Tatiana closed the door. Again, Olga stared at a framed photograph of her first trip on the Standart, and her sister walked to a spot besides her.

"Is something bothering you, Olya?" Tatiana asked.

"It's nothing."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, nothing!" Olga snapped.

Tatiana flinched at the outburst of her sister. "Olya?"

"I... I am sorry. I did not mean to burst at you like that."

"It is fine, you can confess your feelings and thoughts. I think that I may feel what you feel."

Olga continued to look at the photograph, her eyes settling on a tall adolescent boy in a naval cadet uniform. "Pavel..."

"Who? What do you mean?"

"It is about Pavel Voronov, a cadet in the Royal Navy."

"So... you have feelings for him?"

"I was ten, and he was sixteen. We were on the Standart, and we were visiting relatives in England. And I now know why he kept looking at me... he had affections for me. Now, I cannot help wondering what he is like now. Oh, Tatiana... what do I do?"

"I do not know what to tell you, but I think you should be careful. Think of what would be the right choice," Tatiana said.

"Thank you, Tatya," Olga said, and the sisters embraced each other.


	7. Bon Voyage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Romanovs begin their trip to Livadia. Our future heiress to the Russian throne is still a carefree young woman, and one in love. She meets a familiar face onboard the Standart...

_April 21, 1912_

About two years passed, and Dimitri grew closer with the Little Pair. Whenever the sisters had leisure time, they met Dimitri and frolicked in the palace gardens. Anastasia, thanks to her friendship with the kitchen boy, became livelier. To the relief of Maria, her old Nastya had returned. Olga was also relieved to see her youngest sister resuming her pranks, despite their milder level. Not only was Dimitri happy to see his friend Anastasia regain her spirit, but he had been added to the list of servants to accompany the Romanovs to Livadia. White Flower Day was approaching, and the royal couple had decided to participate in charity work there.

Having turned sixteen years old just four months earlier, Olga was closer to her coming of age as Tsarina. The eldest Grand Duchess was no longer a naive little girl, as she now knew more about the outside world. The position of her family was still precarious. Strikes and riots were still common in the far reaches of the Russian Empire: the aging, faltering giant created by her ancestors. Her family still faced the risk of losing their power over the people. Feeling burdened by the thought of the increasing problems of the empire ruled by her family, Olga yearned for an escape from the grim reality she faced.

A knock on the door sounded, and Olga heard her sister Tatiana speak. "Olya, I need to tell you something wonderful!"

"Yes, Tatya?" Olga said, walking to the door.

She opened the door to see Tatiana and the Little Pair standing outside with excited faces. Anastasia wore a smug smile on her face, perhaps thinking of the pranks she would play on her sisters. Maria kept her smile.

"We will go to Livadia today for White Flower Day! Papa said that after our charity work, we will be able to relax on the beach," Tatiana said.

"That is good to hear," Olga replied.

"Also, I have heard that Dimitri will be joining us."

"That is fine, I actually enjoy his presence and his sarcastic sense of humor. I know that little Nastya will enjoy the time with her friend," Olga said, looking at her youngest sister.

"I may be a princess, but even a kitchen boy can be my friend. Anyone who dares say otherwise, I will prank them!" Anastasia declared.

"Except for Mama, Nastya. You know how strict she can be," Tatiana warned her.

"I do not care. Dimitri will be with me wherever I go, he is my only and best friend!"

"Will you fall in love with him someday, Nastya?" Maria teased, poking her sister on the shoulder with her finger.

Anastasia looked away. She felt a twinge of nervousness. "How am I supposed to know? He is only a friend!"

"Such strong feelings. You _like_ him, right?"

Anastasia huffed, raising her chin. "Only as a friend. Even if I fall in love with him someday, I do not want any children."

"We will see."

Tatiana reminded the Little Pair to go to their room to pack some belongings, and Anastasia and Maria left the Big Pair. Before Tatiana could enter her room, she still heard them argue over whether Anastasia would fall in love with Dimitri. She rolled her eyes, and she stepped into the bedroom. Olga placed down her book on the table beside her camp bed, looking intently at her sister.

"So, when do we depart? What has Papa said?" Olga asked her sister.

"At half past ten in the morning. We have less than an hour to get ready, so I say that we should begin packing our belongings," Tatiana said, looking into a closet.

The Big Pair pulled out their travel briefcases from the closet. They packed their extra clothing, swimsuits, and their little amount of jewelry. Both the Little and Big Pairs were raised with little physical luxuries and comforts. Such practices were imperial traditions to raise the royal youth in piety and discipline, and the royal children had grown accustomed to their plain lifestyles. When the Big Pair had finished packing their things, they huffed out a breath while struggling to close their briefcases.

"Olya, you pack too much. You should bring less," Tatiana said, taking out a few dresses from the briefcases.

"Yet I need ten fresh dresses for the fourteen days we will be there. I would hate to wear dirty garments for a few days," Olga said, shaking her head.

"The case is too small to fit-"

"In all honesty, these are my dresses, not yours. I do not think that you should be the judge of whatever I pack."

"You are being rude," Tatiana commented.

"Then you should stop bossing the rest of us around. You are _not_ my mother."

Tatiana sighed. "Fine. Then, I will stop speaking so that this argument does not escalate any further."

After a few attempts, Olga managed to pack all ten articles of clothing into her travel case, and Tatiana led Olga to the palace greeting room. Going through the rather complex interior of passages and rooms, Olga looked at the familiar paintings on the walls. She would not see them for over a week, and she knew that her homesickness would set in within a few days at Livadia. She enjoyed her visits there because of the weather and friendly locals, but she always enjoyed her time within the walls of the palace. Within the palace walls lay so many memories of her childhood: her first steps, her first snowball fight, and her twelfth birthday. To her, the palace would be her beloved home.

Once the Big Pair reached the front door, they encountered their parents waiting outside with their cases fully packed. Nicholas smiled, and Alexandra wore a worried expression on her face. The Little Pair had not yet finished packing their things, and the time to leave was approaching.

Nicholas looked behind the Big Pair, and he checked his pocketwatch. "Do not worry, Sunny. We have plenty of time before our car arrives."

"Nicky, you should discipline our children more. Simple cold baths and camp beds are not enough. When I was their age, my father did not hesitate to intervene for even the smaller infractions. Even being late can be a transgression," Alexandra said.

"I cannot, and I do not need to. Do not worry, our children behave well for the most part, except for our little shvibzik. But I love her for her liveliness and her fun nature. She reminds me of my late brother," Nicholas spoke with a hint of sadness.

"I do not approve of the pranks. Her rock and snowball _prank_ had gone too far."

"Please, Sunny, can we leave this subject for later?"

Alexandra shook her head. "No, I cannot allow our children to run amok and cause trouble. They need to be disciplined and sheltered until they are mature enough."

Nicholas and Alexandra continued to argue, and Olga thought about the faults of her parents. The Tsar was incompetent, and a successor needed to be coronated at a later time. Nevertheless, Olga still felt closer to her father, who was a better parent than a ruler. He often spoke with her about politics and his personal issues with the other aristocrats and advisors. Her mother, the Tsarina, was more focused on her family rather than ruling Russia. Even though she cared about her children, she refused to give them more independence. If not for the strict rules of associating with people within her station, she would have developed a happy friendship with Pavel.

Looking at the entrance to the greeting room, the Big Pair saw their younger sisters arrive. Nicholas soon noticed the Big Pair talking with the Little Pair while the selected servants entered the room in their best uniforms. With a quick glance back at the servants, Anastasia looked for Dimitri within the group. She settled her gaze at him, and he smiled back.

"Hey, Nastya, enjoying the view?" Maria teased.

Anastasia groaned. "Ugh, shut up!"

"Calm yourself, you are a princess," Tatiana said.

"But Mashka-"

"Whether she started it or not, does not matter."

Nicholas walked over to his daughters, and said, "It is time to go. Let us not be late for the boarding."

"Yes, Papa," Anastasia said, and all four sisters picked up their cases.

Stepping outside the palace, the Romanovs and their few selected servants approached their vehicles, which idled outside the palace perimeter. With one last look at his friend, Dimitri waved at Anastasia while her parents were looking away. She waved back before stepping inside the red-painted Ford Model T alongside her parents and sisters. He and the other servants entered their car, and the guards entered their vehicles. The drivers started their engines and began to drive away from the palace.

Dimitri looked back at the receding shape of the palace, and he knew that he would miss the familiar interiors of the Alexander Palace that had been his home for a few months. Before, he was a mere street orphan, and he now had found a new home and family with the Romanovs. He felt both excitement and fear. What would happen to him?

Anna Demidova, a tall woman with blonde hair, looked at Dimitri before speaking. "I have been in Livadia before. I assure you that you will enjoy your time there."

"It feels so strange being a kitchen boy... a _royal_ kitchen servant after years of living on the streets," Dimitri said.

"I believe that these kinds of things happen for a purpose. You are very fortunate, since the Tsar hires very few to serve him. It is a miracle that you have gained a place here with us."

"Yes, I am thankful for what had happened to me, but I still cannot get used to my new life. It is that everything happened so quickly!"

"Life often moves faster than we realize," Anna said, looking outside at the passing grassy fields.

To Dimitri, the words spoken by the royal handmaiden sounded true. Much in his life had changed within a few months. Instead of picking pockets and sleeping on the street, he was guaranteed three meals a day and slept in a bed. Before, he only had the fleeting company of other street orphans like him. Now, he had the company of not one, but four Grand Duchesses! This was all thanks to the Tsar. As Dimitri thought of all the improvements in his life, he realized that the Tsar was not as terrible of a person. He rethought his feelings against the Tsar, as he had received a great deal from Nicholas the Second.

The escort of cars arrived at Saint Petersburg, and passerby flocked from their workplaces to see the Romanov escort. Guards that had been notified beforehand by the Tsar himself protected the escort by patrolling alongside it. Within the crowd, some of the citizens cheered and voiced their approval, waving miniature Russian flags in the air. The uniformed guards struggled to hold back the enthusiastic onlookers, but the royal family enjoyed the attention. Alexandra refused to make eye contact with the crowd, holding her chin high. She lived up to her nickname as the Ice Queen thanks to her indifference toward the commoners.

Unlike Alexandra, Nicholas smiled and waved at his supporters within the crowds. He sat up straight with confidence and dignity in his maroon-colored suit and light blue sash adorned with various medals which gleamed in the sunlight. The Big Pair, the more mature of the four Grand Duchesses, tried not to wave or react to the crowds. Olga glanced at the crowd a few times, and she looked behind her father's car. Behind the car carrying the royal family were two cars: one transporting the servants and the other transporting guards. Dimitri could be seen whispering something to Anna Demidova, but Olga could not hear their conversation.

Anastasia rolled her eyes as her sister, Maria, blew kisses at the guards along the path of the royal procession. " _Someday, Maria will find a dashing officer or noble to marry, but I will be just fine by myself. It would be great if I could become a famous guitar player someday,_ " she thought.

"Enjoying the view, Nastya?" Maria asked.

"I've never seen so many people happy to see Papa before," Anastasia said, looking around at the crowds on the streets.

"Perhaps Papa is doing a good job as Tsar."

"I hope so, and I hope that Dimitri and I will stay together."

"He is a kitchen boy, they do not stay in the palace for life. Eventually, he will have to leave once he is not needed anymore."

"No, I want him to stay! He is my only friend outside our family, so I will make him stay!" Anastasia said, almost yelling.

"Nastya, Mashka has a point. What if you become too attached to him? You might regret doing so," Olga said.

Anastasia kept quiet for the remainder of the ride towards the dock where the royal yacht was moored. For once, her wit had failed her, and she could not think of an argument against her sisters. She hated to admit it, but her sisters were right about the possibility of excessive attachment to Dimitri. She still could not let go of her friendship with him, as she had been desperate for a friend.

The procession of cars carrying the Romanovs and their staff reached the dock. The bay waters were calm. The waves gently lapped at the waterfront. Floating beside the dock, the Standart yacht bobbed in the water, as if waiting for its occupants to board it. Painted in hues of black and gold, the yacht stood out from the dull gray cloudy skies. With her sizeable hull extending over a hundred meters long, the Standart lived up to its reputation as a floating palace for the Romanovs. As soon as the cars stopped beside the dock, the guards formed a buffer between the enthusiastic spectators and the royal family and staff. Waving one last time at the crowds, Maria and Anastasia followed their sisters and parents over the boarding bridge. The sounds of the ocean were drowned out by the cheering and commotion from the crowds.

Dimitri looked around at the masses, and he could not help feeling surprised. Despite the unpopularity of the Romanov dynasty, they still had plenty of supporters in the cities. He looked at the royal couple, and he had a dreadful feeling within himself. Despite the safety of the Russian royalty that day, their bliss would not last forever.

Boarding the yacht, the Romanovs were greeted by the naval officers, and some of them tipped their hats to them. Olga appreciated the attention, but Tatiana had a more reserved attitude for their attentions. As Olga stepped to the starboard, she saw a familiar face. The uniformed man looked out to the sea, holding the railings. Olga froze once he looked at her. He was no random officer. He was Pavel Voronov, the man who held the affections of the eldest Grand Duchess. His shaved brown hair accentuated his handsomely sculpted face. His hazelnut brown eyes made contact with her light blue eyes, and Olga blushed.

"Hello, Your Highness, you look fine today. It will be my delight to serve your family for this trip," Pavel said.

Olga stuttered. She felt nervous. It had been years since she had seen Pavel, as she had only been a child during that time. "Uh... hello. I like your enthusiasm," she said, feeling pathetic.

Pavel enjoyed the reaction of the eldest Grand Duchess, who placed hands over her face to hide her blush. "No worries, Your Highness. It is normal to be nervous when meeting someone after a while."

" _If only Mama had let me talk with people more, I would not make a fool of myself! What could I say?_ " Olga thought.

Her trip was going to be interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could not resist making Pavel handsome from Olga's POV. I wanted to reference her crush on the junior officer. There will be more of Pavel and Olga later on! Also, I read somewhere that the officers mildly flirted with the Grand Duchesses, so that is why Pavel makes those remarks.


	8. Foresight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olga has an out of body experience as she sleeps on the Standart, seeing her stillborn brother in spirit. The royal family is yet unaware of the sinister plans against them...

As she slept, Olga had a strange experience. She found herself in a vast throne room with columns, walls, and decorations of a pearly white material. On the carnelian throne, a glowing human-shaped silhouette quietly sat, wearing robes of white and gold. Olga froze still as soon as she realized where she was. A pool of what appeared to be a transparent, crystalline fluid rippled in front of the throne. Winged humanoid figures dressed in simple robes of a flowing white fabric sung praises at the figure on the throne. Although the figure did not show any movement, a voice could be heard.

"Hello, Olga Nikolaevna Romanova." the voice said.

Olga looked down at herself, and she saw that she was glowing a dark blue. Streaks of darkness were embedded in her spiritual body, contrasting against the simple white robe she wore. She trembled in fear, unable to take a step forward or backward. The enthroned figure spoke again.

"Do not be afraid, child. You are here for a reason. I am sure that you are confused as to why you are here, but I will explain why. There is someone who you will see."

Another human figure appeared from a flash of light, and Olga could see that he was a young boy of no more than eight years old. His eyes were the same Romanov blue, and his neatly combed hair was a light brown. He smiled with joy etched on his face upon spotting Olga, and he ran towards her.

"Sister, sister!" the boy cried out, as he ran towards her.

"Alexei? Is that you?"

"Yes, sister, I am home."

Olga outstretched her arms to the soul of her younger brother. Alexei stopped his pace before tightly embracing his oldest sister. A feeling of a familiar warmth spread through them, and they glowed a light pink. Despite being separated by death, both sister and brother were bound by familial love. She released her brother.

"Father told me to keep you company, he will bring us somewhere." Alexei said.

"Where?" Olga asked, wearing a confused expression.

"A possibility, dear child, a possibility. Remember that to avert what could happen, you must fight hatred with love..." the voice spoke.

Olga found herself in a dimly lit basement, looking at a group of uniformed men facing a family of seven. Looking closely at the uniforms, Olga could see the symbol of the Bolsheviks: a hammer and sickle insignia woven with red fabric. Looking at the family, Olga gasped. She could see the familiar faces of her parents and sisters including herself, but they were older, paler, and thinner. Dressed in only simple civilian clothing, the Romanovs looked like commoners rather than royalty.

A man with a brown, curly beard stepped forward before taking out a note from his pocket. He read it aloud, punctuating the tense silence within the small cellar. A name flashed in the mind of Olga's soul: Yakov Yurovsky.

In view of the fact that your relatives have continued their attack on Soviet Russia and the significance of yourselves as political figures, all of you are to be executed," Yakov coldly said.

"What? What?" Nicholas said in confusion.

"This, Romanov scum!" Yakov said, pulling a pistol out from his pocket.

With a loud blast, the .22 caliber pistol embedded a slug of metal into the chest of the former Tsar, who spluttered and collapsed into the floor. The four former Grand Duchesses screamed in terror, backing against the wall. The gruesome sight of the Tsar bleeding on the ground and choking on his blood frightened Alexandra. She trembled in fear as she watched another lethal round of bullets embed themselves in the body of her husband. The former Tsar finally laid still on the ground in blood spattered clothing.

"Fire, _fire_!" Yakov yelled at his comrades, gesturing to the Tsarina and Grand Duchesses.

The men brandished their pistols and began firing, as the cellar was filled with the deafening noise of blasts. Even the truck engine idling outside the house could not silence the commotion. The Tsarina fell from a headshot, slumping on the floor beside her husband. Olga watched her future self cross herself before being shot in the hand, and other bullets ricocheted off her jewel-filled corset. Moaning in agony, the other Olga twitched on the floor before Yakov pointed his pistol at her head. Looking up, the eldest Grand Duchess wore a face contorted in fright. Another staccato of bangs filled the air, as Yakov and his men fired their pistols. Olga watched her other self die in a gruesome manner, as the bullets made mincemeat of her head. Her sister Tatiana screamed and tears flowed down her cheeks, as she fell onto the floor. Yakov finished her off with another headshot, and the second Grand Duchess fell silent. Only the Little Pair were left, huddling in the corner and screaming. Yakov sneered.

"I cannot believe that some people hate us that much!" she said, feeling tears roll down her translucent cheeks.

"It is sad to know, but it is true. They do hate our family that much," Alexei said, looking away from the graphic scene.

"Why am I being shown this?"

"Because you must know what could happen to understand how to stop it."

The scene changed, and Olga and Alexei watched Soviet guards bark orders at prisoners dressed in rags. They came across a limping prisoner, and they beat him with the butts of their rifles.

"What kind of terrible place is this?" Olga asked, placing a hand over her mouth.

"It is a gulag, a place where people in prison work for the Bolsheviks," Alexei spoke.

Another cry of pain could be heard from the frail prisoner as a guard kicked him in the ribs. He collapsed on the ground, unmoving. Olga could only watch with a horrified face as the guards dragged him away to a secluded place behind a cabin. Without a hint of hesitation, both guards shot him in the head.

"Our people, they suffer so much in the future," Olga said, feeling a stab of pain everytime she noticed the guards abuse the camp inmates.

"It's not the future, Olya, as long as someone does something about it."

"But how? How can these things to come, these tragedies, be averted?"

"Through love, sister. Before you wake up, I must say something."

"What is it?"

"Love is the antidote to the sickness within Russia, and the world."

* * *

_April 28, 1912_

Olga awoke with a gasp, sitting upright in her bed. She looked around her cabin, feeling confused about her whereabouts until she realized that she was only dreaming. She shuddered at the thought of the images. She wiped the tears from her eyes. Was it a dream or a vision? Whatever it was, it must have been shown to her for a reason.

She looked around the cabin again, as her eyes adjusted to the dimness of the moonlight. Silvery rays of moonlight illuminated the ruffled covers of the cabin beds and the form of her sleeping sisters. The sound of waves could be heard, and rain pattered on the roof of the ship. Still, the sisters did not stir. They were deep in their slumber, softly snoring. Olga groaned when she looked at the clock within the cabin. It was only three in the morning, and she had been disturbed from her much needed rest. She laid back down in her bunk bed. Her breathing fell into the slow rhythm of sleep, but her mind was still awake. After another hour of failed attempts to sleep, she got out of bed again. There was much to settle in her mind, and she gave up all hope of sleeping.

Dressing into her thick, rainproof clothing for the weather, Olga looked outside the small cabin window. A thunderbolt flashed in the distance. Seconds later, the thunder sounded. Anastasia mumbled and turned under the bed covers of her bunk, but she remained asleep. The others did not stir, continuing to softly snore. She felt certain that none of her sisters would notice her brief absence from the cabin, as they were asleep.

Opening the door, Olga was met by the salty Mediterranean wind and the rain that splattered on her raincoat. She closed the door behind her before walking under the shades of the deck towards the front areas of the deck. Thunder boomed again, and the wind whistled around her. She approached the bridge, where two officers in their white uniforms conversed. Captain Zelenetsky, a well-built man with brown hair, manned the wheel. Alongside the captain, the Tsar in his naval uniform could be seen looking outside the right window. It was a normal habit for Nicholas the Second to rise early in the morning and check the weather. Before Olga could hide behind a large exhaust pipe, her father stepped outside the bridge and spotted her.

"Olga! What are you doing up this early?" the Tsar sternly asked.

"I-"

"The weather is getting rough. You should stay inside your cabin."

"I could not sleep, Papa. I had a disturbing dream..."

After considering her words, Nicholas answered. "Oh, I see. Fine, you may stay with me, but do not go outside for too long."

Olga stepped inside the bridge along with her father. The captain welcomed the pair with a brief smile. He turned back to the front of the ship and manned its controls again, regaining his stoic expression. Zelensky was a man who took his duty seriously, and he stubbornly followed protocols and procedures. Off duty, he enjoyed socializing with the crew and the royal family. At the moment, he focused on his task at hand: getting the Standart to Livadia.

One of the two officers stopped his conversation with his peer. He turned around with his same charming smile, and Olga looked away before her father could take notice. It was good to see her love again, but she could not allow her affections for the officer to show. If she did, her father would disapprove and transfer Pavel away to another ship. She was a Grand Duchess, and Pavel was only one out of thousands of junior officers. A relationship between the two would be improbable, if not impossible.

Pavel turned away, and his fellow officer, Viktor, looked at him with pity. Viktor looked at Pavel with his dark brown eyes, feeling pity for his friend. He understood that his fellow naval officer had a crush on the eldest Grand Duchess. A week had passed, and the small flirtations from Olga had only increased the feelings that Pavel had. He did not know what Olga thought or felt about Pavel, but he knew that they could not be together. He tapped his friend on the shoulder and gestured for him to go outside. Pavel hesitated for a few seconds before following his friend outside. They retreated under the shades to find some cover from the rain.

"I see the way that you look at that young woman, Pasha. The Tsar's eldest daughter!" Viktor exclaimed.

"I know we cannot be together, old friend, but I distantly recall the first time I saw her as a little child. Since that day, I have often been thinking of her, and now... I feel something for her. Her sharp wit and her inner fire attract me, and the way those blue eyes crinkle when she laughs..." Pavel quietly spoke, looking out at the rough waters of the Mediterranean Sea.

"You should be careful. The Tsar and Tsarina are protective of their children, and they would be shocked if they found out about your budding romance with Grand Duchess Olga."

"Yes, you are right. But it is hard for me to imagine living my life without her. I must be falling for her. I can only wonder if she feels the same."

"That is love, Pasha. The romantic kind, but is it truly wise to pursue her?"

Pavel remained silent, unsure of what to say. While Pavel and Viktor watched the escorting vessels at some distance, Olga and her father sat in the bridge. Nicholas watched the captain and the flag captain Nikov discuss the direction of the yacht. Olga sat beside her father for some time, and she heard the captain exclaim.

"I have spotted land!" the captain exclaimed.

"Shall we notify the escorting cruisers? The waters might be shallow with hidden rocks."

"Absolutely. Tell the navigation officer Sergei to send a message from the radio."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

_An Inn at Livadia_

"The time has come, comrades. Our trip has taken a week, passing through a tangle of roads to get here... but it will all pay off," Mikhal Vaganov stated, watching the five suited men wear their smug smiles.

"The Romanovs, are they arriving soon?" one auburn-haired man asked.

"Yes, according to our sources, they will arrive tomorrow. I am not surprised that some ship officers in the Imperial Navy are not paid much. After all, the royal family hoard their money rather than paying their serving soldiers enough. However, that has worked for our benefit, as I have bribed a sympathetic officer on the Standart."

The man gasped in disbelief. "The _Standart_? That is the royal yacht! All members of its staff must be incredibly loyal to the Tsar in order to even be there!"

"Yes, but even some officers have trouble paying for their families back at home, even with their pay. I have bribed Officer Viktor, whom I have met at the Petrov Bar. He is quite sympathetic to our cause."

Silence filled the inn room. All of the men in their casual civilian disguises considered the words of their leader, some scratching their heads. Mikhal wore a grim smile, and he rubbed his hands. He gestured to the table, where a few cups of coffee steamed. The men picked their cups and savored the warm coffee drinks. For the meantime, the caffeinated drink would keep them awake at three in the morning. If their minds were still dulled by sleepiness, they could never plan a successful assassination.

"Yakov Yurovsky, I admire you for your zeal for the Bolshevik cause. When we finish planning the raid, you will have the honor of killing the Tsar," Mikhal said.

"Yes, Comrade Mikhal!" a brunette, bearded man said, saluting.

"Alexander Bagov. You will have the honor of killing the Tsarina," Mikhal said, facing the auburn-haired man.

"It would be my utmost pleasure, Comrade Mikhal!" Alexander said.

"We will all begin planning the assassination now! Time is ticking, but I believe that we all can achieve this. Russia will soon be free of the tyranny of the Romanovs, forever!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay, as linear algebra, Macroeconomics, and History 101 are demanding classes! At least I can utilize my newly gained knowledge of macroeconomics to make any economic changes as realistic as possible.
> 
> The vision or dream (whatever you interpret it as) references Revelation's description of God's throne room. This is a nod to the Christian faith and beliefs held by the Grand Duchesses. I hope that anyone who is a fellow Christian was not offended by any inaccuracies, if there are any.
> 
> I do not know the exact name of Gleb's father, so I decided to make up a name for him. Anyways, he and his small band of zealous revolutionaries will play larger roles later on.


	9. Livadia Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Romanovs arrive in Livadia by yacht, and things seem to proceed normally. Summertime crushes, pranks, and other family antics define their experiences.

April 30, 1912

The first day that the Romanovs spent at Livadia passed by. During that day, the Romanovs had done the usual routine of their White Flower Day visits. They had arrived on the afternoon of the twenty-ninth of April, missing part of the local church service. The Romanovs still attended it, and they spent much of their time singing hymns in the Livadia Palace Church and praying for the ill. Later during that Sunday, they returned to their summer retreat: the Livadia Palace. After they slept, they awoke to another pleasant day. Free from the stormy or snowy climate of northern Russia, the royal family could wear their special attire for the occasion.

Within the bedroom of the Big Pair, both Olga and Tatiana remained asleep. Even the sounds of the servants talking and stepping on the floors did not wake them. Apparently, staying up until midnight was not the best choice. A few minutes later, the bedroom door opened, and light flooded into the dark room. Olga groaned as the light shone on her face, and her sister placed an arm over her eyes. Anna Demidova, dressed in her royal servant attire, smiled. The white uniformed officer beside her chuckled, enjoying the scene of the Big Pair struggling to get out of bed. His brown eyes shone with mirth as he watched his favorite Grand Duchess stir underneath the bed covers.

"Wha..." Olga mumbled.

"Breakfast is being prepared, and your younger sisters are already at the table with your parents. They asked me to come and check on you two," Anna said.

"I thought you were an early riser, Your Highness. Perhaps I was wrong," the officer said.

Recognizing the voice of the officer, Olga sat up, rubbing her eyes. She opened her blue eyes to see her dashing young officer: Pavel Voronov. It was clear that he was restraining yet another laugh. The eldest Grand Duchess was not pleased. No officer, especially her crush, should laugh at a young woman of her standing! She scowled at Pavel, who laughed.

"Pavel Voronov, this is not funny!" Olga spoke, tightly clutching the bedsheets in her fists.

This reaction from the eldest Grand Duchess only made Pavel laugh harder, and soon he was not the only one with a reddening face. Olga felt her face heat up, but not out of restrained affection. She tossed a pillow at Pavel, who blocked it with his arm. The pillow plopped on the carpeted floor of the bedroom, and Anna looked at Pavel with a disapproving look. Pavel walked away, and he stopped laughing when he looked around the hallway. He saw a few servants turn around a corner down the hallway. If the servants noticed him laughing next to the bedroom of the Grand Duchesses, they would be suspicious. He took a deep breath to calm himself before they noticed his improper demeanor.

"Come with me, Pavel. The Big Pair are already awake now," Anna said, gesturing for the young officer to follow her.

"Alright, Miss Demidova. I would like to enjoy a hearty breakfast soon," Pavel replied, following Anna down the hallway.

Once both Pavel and Anna had left the bedroom, Tatiana stirred underneath the bed covers. Olga left her bed. She glanced at the window that was shaded by blinds. As soon as Olga opened the blinds, sunlight filled the room. Tatiana squinted from the intense light, and groaned. Nevertheless, both of them changed their attire to their special white dresses and sun hats.

"I actually enjoy this weather... the bright sun, the clear sky, and the sea winds," Tatiana said after getting up.

Olga nodded, and she commented. "If only we chose this place as our official home. It would be safer from bad weather and the revolutionaries."

"Olya, we are perfectly safe. No one is going to harm us here as well. You need to enjoy your time here while it lasts."

"I do not know, Tatya. I cannot shake off this feeling of dread, no matter how much I try."

"Well, I could ask Papa to take us to the beach sometime today. That could help us all relax, especially after living near those crowds of protestors as well."

Olga placed a hand on her chin, deep in thought. "Yes, I think that is a splendid idea."

"Wonderful. Now, we must go to the White Hall."

After making their own beds and tidying their room, the Big Pair went through the various halls and up a flight of stairs to the second floor. They passed through the main hallway of the second floor, glancing outside the arched windows at the front plaza of the palace grounds. Thanks to the efforts of palace staff, the lawns and foliage were well trimmed. Everyday during White Flower Week, the floors were swept while the royal family visited the town of Livadia. As the Big Pair stepped into the White Hall, their father acknowledged their presence with a nod, but their mother shook her head in disapproval. Upon taking their seats, Olga and Tatiana heard the comments of their younger sisters.

"I am so hungry, that I could eat a Siberian bear. What took you two so long?" Anastasia said.

"We-" Olga trailed off, becoming silent as soon as she spotted Pavel and Dimitri sitting across from her.

Anastasia smirked. "Did someone glue your tongue? Perhaps that handsome young officer over there?"

"What? No!" Olga yelled, her blue eyes blazing with ire.

All eyes in the room glanced at her, and Olga looked down at her meal, feeling her face heat up. For certain, she was blushing. The room became quieter, and Alexandra cleared her throat, looking at her eldest daughter with a stern look. Nicholas sighed, and gave Anastasia a serious look. Never before in all her visits to Livadia had Olga encountered such an awkward situation.

"Do not mind the disturbance," Nicholas spoke, and the officers and servants resumed their chatter.

"Olga, it is unladylike to raise your voice at your sister, even if she provokes you. I am sure she meant no ill will," Alexandra said.

"Sorry, Mama." Olga quietly said, her voice almost inaudible.

The Romanovs held hands and made a brief prayer to bless their meal. After doing so, they began to eat their breakfast. Olga attempted to hold back her temper, as Anastasia kept sticking her tongue out at her. If not for the supervision of her parents, she would have snapped at her youngest sister. Her rationale reminded her that her unforgettable Nastya was a prankster and clown at heart. Little Nastya had good intent to entertain her family, as they were on vacation. Olga took a deep breath to calm herself, and she focused her efforts on ignoring Anastasia. The strategy seemed to work until the youngest Grand Duchess attempted to stab a moist grape with her fork. Instead of succeeding, Anastasia flung the grape off her plate by accident. The grape hit Olga on the forehead.

Olga still remained silent but clenched her fists with barely restrained anger. Anastasia held up her hands in mock innocence, and Maria giggled. Tatiana looked at her eldest sister with worry. She knew that things would soon escalate into a fight between her sisters, and she decided to take action.

"Nastya, please let Olya be. She did not sleep well last night," Tatiana reminded Anastasia.

After a moment, Anastasia relented. "Alright, alright. I will stop now."

Olga sighed in relief. At least she could finish her meal in peace. She hoped that once they went to the beach, she could rebuild yet another sand castle with Tatiana as well as before. Nicholas whispered something in the ear of his wife, and she giggled, playfully swatting him on the shoulder. Despite the past affairs with ballerinas, Nicholas still got along with his beloved Sunny. They had discussed the topic before, and they had reconciled long ago.

"Mama, Papa, it is possible for us to go to the beach after the charity?" Tatiana asked, placing down her fork.

"Well, I suppose so..." Alexandra said, and Nicholas nodded in agreement.

The Little Pair cheered at the declaration. Anastasia smirked at Olga, remembering when she had destroyed the sand castle constructed by the Big Pair. Olga knew what Anastasia thought, judging by her smirk. Perhaps Anastasia would wreck her sand castle again, as she had done several times before. Olga gave her signature "do not mess with me" face, but Anastasia only continued to smirk. The mind of the shvibzik was at work again, planning yet another prank.

After finishing breakfast, the Romanovs went through their usual morning routine before leaving the palace. With brushed teeth and their well-tailored clothing, the royal family walked out the front door, followed by the guards and officers. Pavel inhaled the salty sea breeze, and his friend Viktor wore a smile. Both officers, close friends for years, enjoyed the weather. As the diadka assigned to watch over Olga, Pavel had a great responsibility to fulfill. Viktor was assigned to watch Maria, much to her delight. The sailors assigned to look after the Grand Duchesses stood beside them, and the Tsar and Tsarina went to the front of the group. Nicholas gestured for the group to follow them, and the tour of Livadia began.

Wearing their dresses with red ties and red belts with Red Cross pouches, the four Grand Duchesses walked to the town of Livadia alongside their parents. Upon their arrival, the Romanovs waved at the locals, who bowed or shouted words of appreciation. Passing by a trio of young women dressed in white dresses, Pavel flashed them a smile with his white teeth. This made the women sigh with adoration and give dreamy looks at his lean, muscled body.

Olga looked at Pavel waving at the crowds, and she felt a strange feeling in her heart. Her heartbeat raced, and her steps slowed as she admired the facial features of her diadka. His eyes had a warm brown hue like hot chocolate. His brown hair was done in a well-trimmed buzz cut. His body was well-built from years of physical training, making a sight to behold. Olga then looked at the other arm of her crush. If only she could hold hands with him and tell him her feelings. However, she knew that she could not do that, as people would spread rumors about her having a forbidden relationship with an officer.

"Enjoying something you see?" Pavel spoke, smiling with those dazzling pearly white teeth of his.

Olga almost gasped from surprise. How did he know? She shook her head, and thought of a quick reply. "Not at all, I thought there was something on your shoes."

"Oh." Pavel looked down at his shoes, but he saw no blemish on them. "Thank you for your concerns, but there is nothing on my shoes, Your Highness."

"Perhaps I was mistaken."

"You are acting strange."

"Me? Strange?" Olga said with a puzzled look on her face.

"I remember the first time we saw each other. You were, and always be that little and innocent girl I saw on the decks of the Standart. It is my job to protect you, as a good, noble officer should."

Olga felt her heart soften at the endearments from her officer, but her mind, sharp as ever, resisted. "Do not flatter me, I am not that innocent, Pavel."

"So, you..." Pavel said, trailing off and blushing.

"What? No!" Olga said, realizing the implications of her words.

Pavel chuckled, and Olga groaned. She hoped that her family would not walk much longer, as the air temperature began to rise. Her forehead felt moist after some time, and she smiled when she spotted a cluster of booths in the town plaza. At last, she could stay still and give herself a rest from about a kilometer of walking.

Olga reached into her pouch to take out a roll of ruble bills, counting four-hundred rubles in total. Raised with modesty and piety, she had decided to donate eighty percent of her allowance to tuberculosis treatment. Pavel also reached into his pocket to take out a few ruble bills as well, and he gave the nearest booth keeper his fifty rubles. Olga then gave her donation, and the booth keeper gaped her mouth in awe at the large quantity of money received.

"Your generosity is astounding, Your Highness. Your donation is very much appreciated!" the woman said.

"Not a problem. I pray that this money will be put to good use," Olga replied.

The rest of the sisters gave their donations, and they started conversations with the booth keepers. Beside the four Grand Duchesses, the royal couple gave their donations and walked around the plaza to see the various stands. The guards patrolled the plaza, keeping a perimeter around the royal family. This ensured that they would all remain safe.

A few hours passed as the Romanovs toured the rest of Livadia, selling white flowers. At noon, they returned to the palace grounds with their escorts. After walking for hours under the sun, Olga, Tatiana, Maria, and Anastasia all desired to swim in the cerulean waters by the beach. They went to their bedrooms, and they packed their swimsuits and towels into their suitcases. In separate rooms, the officers and servants packed their beach attire as well. As the Big Pair finished packing their belongings, their bedroom door opened to reveal their parents.

"Mama, Papa, are we going to the beach now?" Olga said, her blue eyes lighting up with anticipation.

"Of course, my little spitfire. I originally planned for us to do some tennis competition in the palace courts, but I changed my mind today thanks to a certain little girl," Nicholas said.

"I am not little anymore, Papa!" Tatiana exclaimed.

Nicholas laughed, and he kissed his two eldest daughters on the cheek. "Both of you, including your sisters, will always be my little angels. I love you all the same, including my Sunny."

"As I do to you, Nicky," Alexandra warmly spoke.

Alexandra and Nicholas led their eldest daughters to a nearby bedroom where the Little Pair had changed out of their special dresses into their casual, plain white dresses. Still, they had kept on their sunhats, as the day had proven hotter than expected.

In the servant quarters, Dimitri changed into his casual wear, as he was off duty. He looked around the room, spotting only a few small beds and a nightstand with a lamp. He peered outside the window, feeling the sea breeze caress his face for the first time. As a street orphan, he had heard other people talk about the infamous Livadia retreat and the mild, warm weather it had for most of the year. Now, he could have a chance to experience what a beach was, or feel his feet sink into soft, pale yellow sand. Even better, he could spend time with his favorite Grand Duchess.

Dimitri heard a rapid series of knocks on the door, and he went to open it. Maria and Anastasia stood outside, awaiting their favorite kitchen boy. Once Dimitri opened the door, they yelled "Boo!" and lunged at him. Dimitri widened his eyes, but he did not flinch. He rolled his eyes.

"You two need to work on your scaring skills, Your Highnesses," Dimitri taunted.

"Then I will practice on Olishka. Everyone knows that she is an easy one to scare... and irritate," Anastasia said, holding up a rubber spider with red markings on it. Dimitri had to admit that it looked quite convincing.

"Nastya, you are a diabolical genius."

"Well, what are we waiting for? We should go!" Maria commented, pointing outside of the room.

In an instant, Dimitri and the four Grand Duchesses went towards the palace entrance. Nicholas, dressed in his white suit, gazed at Dimitri. The Tsar nodded at him. Alexandra hugged each of her daughters, and she hugged Dimitri. He could hardly believe it as much as the existence of flying pigs! A mere kitchen boy like him was being hugged by the Tsarina!

"You are like a son to me. Although I do not approve of any excessively bothersome pranks, I hope that you will watch her for me."

"I will, Your Majesty."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not know if rubber spiders were a thing back in the 1910s. It was a plot bunny that just popped into my head, and I could not resist it! Anastasia was known to be a prankster in real life, so the spider prank would be a good way to show her mischievous nature. Overall, I decided to take some creative liberties in depicting their Livadia visit, as the alexander-palace website and other online sources I found lack specific details.
> 
> On White Flower Day, the Romanovs donated money to hospitals to help them treat tuberculosis. They also sold white flowers and used the money for charitable purposes as well.


	10. An Unpleasant Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another day in Livadia passes by without incident... until grim news is received from an Imperial Okhrana agent.

As the Romanov family and their loyal staff descended the paved path towards the beach, Dmitri followed behind them. A few guards carried a Kodak Brownie camera. Walking with a refined gait like a noble would, Anna Demidova descended the path down the palace hill. The sounds of seagulls and the waves soothed her ears. The sounds of the Grand Duchesses talking and laughing sounded harmonious to her ears. If heaven had come to earth, Livadia would be the closest place to it.

Nicholas and Alexandra led their children and their handpicked escorts down the last few steps. They stepped off the stone path, and their shoes touched the soft sand. Anastasia held the rubber spider in her pocket. She kept herself composed, as she wanted to prevent her oldest sister from becoming suspicious of her. A true prankster makes her pranks unexpected. Unaware of what Anastasia planned to do, Olga chatted with Tatiana.

"The weather is good this time of year. I wish that we could stay much longer, to get away from the trouble of the empire," Olga said.

"I wish that too, but that could never happen. Papa still has his responsibilities to face," Tatiana replied.

Both Nicholas and Alexandra placed their suitcases down and they sat on the sand, watching the waves lap against the shore. As the Big Pair entered their changing tents, Anastasia looked at Maria with a devious grin. Maria shook her head, imploring her youngest sister to leave Olga alone. Anastasia ignored Maria, and she snuck to the changing tent where Olga was changing her attire. Taking out the fake spider, the youngest Grand Duchess knelt down in front of the tent before slipping it underneath the entrance. Suppressing a giggle, she ran back to Maria.

"You should run, Nastya!" Maria warned, starting to step further from the tents.

Anastasia scoffed. "Calm yourself, Mashka. She will know that it is only a prank, and-"

A shrill scream broke the soothing harmony of the crashing waves and seagulls. Startled by the scream of their oldest daughter, Nicholas and Alexandra quickly walked over to the tents. Even from a distance, the Little Pair could see the concerned expressions on the faces of their parents. Nicholas spoke into the tent, and he stepped back. A moment later, Olga exited her tent dressed in her dark blue swimsuit, clenching her fists and scowling. She looked around the beach, and her gaze focused on the Little Pair. The next thing the Little Pair knew, their eldest sister was _sprinting_ at them. Maria shook her head, and she pointed at Anastasia.

" _Sorry!_ " Anastasia yelled before breaking into a sprint down the length of the beach.

Maria watched Olga run past her, and she said, "Oh Nastya, what will your future husband do with you?"

Anastasia had never run this fast in her eleven years of life, and nor had she been as frightened before. Only a few things could scare the willful, stubborn Grand Duchess: death and her enraged oldest sister. At the moment, Anastasia thought that being tackled by her eldest sibling was scarier than eternal damnation. She heard her tempered sister yell, "I will get you, Nastya!"

"Please, Olya! It was only a prank!" Anastasia cried out, looking over her shoulder.

Olga did not listen, and she ran even faster. Ignoring the shouts of her father, she was focused on just one thing: catching up to her youngest sister. Anastasia made a sharp turn around the tents, but her sister could not make the turn as well. She stumbled on the sand, falling to her knees. To her relief, the sand cushioned the impact on her legs. Panting for breath, she watched Anastasia continue running around the tents. She remained in the same location to catch her breath, and her father approached her. Following behind him was her diadka, Pavel.

With a look of disapproval, Nicholas lectured his eldest daughter. "Olga, you must be at ease with your sister. She needs to enjoy this trip in her own way as much as we all do."

"Sorry, Papa. I just felt so angry with her," Olga said, standing up.

For a moment, Nicholas was silent, only interrupted by the sounds of crashing waves. "I accept your apology, but you will have to apologize to little Anya."

"But, Papa-"

" _Now._ "

"Yes, Papa," Olga said, relenting to the wishes of her father.

Pavel stopped his stride beside Nicholas, and he grinned again. As Pavel and Olga walked away from Nicholas, Pavel spoke. "You run quite fast, Your Highness. Perhaps you could make a good marathon runner."

Olga sighed. "Oh, please. That was only because I was enraged with my youngest sister, that little imp."

"Really, your family calls her the imp?"

"Yes, my Papa calls her his little _shvibzik_."

Pavel laughed, his brown eyes crinkled from his laughter. "Well, now I see why Her Highness Anastasia is nicknamed an imp."

"I do not find her pranks very amusing, except for the incident when Anastasia painted Tatiana's dresses black."

"Funny indeed. Reminds me of a cousin that I used to play with, and we would prank my aunt. At least she forgave us every time."

"Not to be nosy, but... what happened to your cousin?"

"My cousin? He moved to Moscow for a job, and I never saw him after that."

The eldest Grand Duchess, a compassionate person at heart, said, "I am sorry to hear that. But, I can keep you company-"

Olga stopped her sentence in the middle of her speech, as she realized the context of her words. Pavel smiled, and he playfully elbowed Olga on the arm. To the young officer, Olga was easy to read. She was quite straightforward in how she expressed her feelings except for her possible crush on him. The unconscious implications within her words gave her true feelings away. This did not surprise the officer, as he already attracted plenty of attention for his handsome physique. Few could resist his charms, including a Grand Duchess of Russia. However, he knew that they could not be together regardless of how they felt about each other.

Olga felt an uncomfortable feeling. Her heart began to beat faster as she looked up into the eyes of her diadka. His brown hair seemed lighter in the sun, and his neck had a light tan akin to a caramel hue. She looked away to hide the blush on her face, but Pavel touched her hand. A strange energy coursed from her hand through the rest of her body, making the hairs on her neck stand up. She moved her hand away, as if she were shocked.

"What were you going to say?" Pavel asked, feeling amusement at the reaction of the Grand Duchess.

"Nothing, I was trying to say that we could be..."

"Lovers? But-"

"Friends. Only friends," Olga interrupted.

"Me? A junior officer as the friend of an esteemed Grand Duchess of Russia?"

"Precisely. You do not know how lonely we are, being forced to reside in our own sheltered world of palaces and gardens. I want a true friend, not just a servant or accomplice. I want someone besides my family who I can trust."

Pavel nodded. "Then I will keep you company. I promise not to harm you in any way."

Olga returned her smile, but she still felt a yearning for her dashing naval officer. Her heart throbbed for him, but she reminded herself that a romance would never be allowed. She was a Grand Duchess, and her crush, Pavel, was only a naval officer. Women of her prestige were forbidden to marry below their station. Holding back her rising tide of emotions, she took a deep breath to calm herself.

Anastasia had long since stopped running, and she changed into her pink swimsuit within her changing tent. She emerged a few moments later, stepping onto the sand. Olga and her newfound friend returned to the changing tents. Now, Olga would apologize for her enraged chase.

Anastasia stepped back from her oldest sister, feeling her heart beat faster. "You will not spank me, right?"

Pavel chuckled, and he said, "No, your sister only wants to apologize."

"I am sorry for frightening you, Nastya. Can we put this behind us?" Olga apologized.

"Of course! I promise not to do any more fake spider pranks in return," Anastasia said, giving Olga a hug.

Embracing her sister, Olga smiled. Pavel, watching the two sisters hug, felt relieved. At least there would not be a fight under his watch. He distanced himself from the sisters to allow them some solitude. He waited beside one tent, and he watched Olga and Anastasia embrace each other. In the distance, he saw a servant boy approaching, and he could make out his features: a brown-eyed, brown-haired adolescent boy dressed in a plain white shirt and gray pants.

Anastasia looked around, and she spotted Dmitri. "Dmitri!" she called out.

"Anya!" Dmitri said.

Anastasia let go of her sister and ran to Dmitri. He smiled, and he gestured for Anastasia to follow him. They walked back to the tents, and Maria and Tatiana emerged in their swimsuits. Maria wore a light blue swimsuit that matched the color of her eyes. Tatiana wore a canary yellow swimsuit, as yellow was her favorite color.

"How is your first time at the beach, Dmitri?" Maria said.

"I enjoy it. The weather here is good, much better than the snow and ice back in St. Petersburg."

"I am glad to hear that."

Olga approached the group, and she made a suggestion. "Tatya? How about we all build a sandcastle together?"

"That would be a good idea, Olya. But make sure that little Nastya does not knock it down before the photo," Tatiana replied.

Anastasia frowned. "But, I would not do that again. Olga yelled at me last time I did so."

"It is fine, Nastya. Even though your pranks may be a pain sometimes, you are still my sister. Nothing will change that."

Anastasia smiled, and she said, "Well, what are we still doing here? Let us get started!"

The four Grand Duchesses raced to the water, leaving Pavel and Dimitri alone. Dmitri looked back to where the Tsar sat beside his wife. He saw Viktor walking towards them while leaving a group of officers and royal guards who were drinking. As he got closer to them, the servant boy knew that the officer was holding one cup in each hand. Turning to face Dmitri, Pavel decided to talk with the new servant boy.

"So, I see that the royal family has hired you only a few years ago. Now that we have met for the first time, how did you get here?"

"It was three years ago when I was passing the palace grounds, but some guards attempted to take my bread. One of the Grand Duchesses came to stop the guards from doing so. After that, I favored the Romanovs much more after playing with them in a snowball fight. Once you get to know them, including the Tsar, they are really just a close family. After I told him my circumstances, he offered me a position in the kitchens out of pity."

"Yes, they are close-knit and lively for a family. The Tsar is a good-hearted man, and I respect him for that. Since seven years ago, I have been serving the Tsar on his special escort and later his yacht. The years have passed, and I believe that the Romanovs are good natured people. I wish no harm to come to them."

"But with all the rioters and the revolutionaries on the edges of Russia..."

"I know, Dmitri. This is why I worry about them, including one of the girls with her bright mind and inner fire."

"You mean... Olga?"

Pavel nodded, watching the eldest Grand Duchess build a sandcastle with her three sisters. He wore a longing look on his face, and he sighed. Dmitri felt sympathy for the officer. He knew exactly what the sailor felt for his darling princess. So far, he had not seen Olga return any signs of affection. The thought of unrequited love hurt.

Viktor came next to his friend, and he patted him on the shoulder. "Everything will get better, Pasha. Soon, you might find someone else."

" _Nyet,_ that would be unlikely," Pavel said.

Viktor gave his friend one small cup of wine, and Pavel sipped from it. "Thank you, old friend," the junior officer said.

An hour later, the four Grand Duchesses completed their masterpiece: a meter-wide sand castle with a moat. Olga and Tatiana smiled from satisfaction. The Little Pair called out to their parents. Alexandra, who enjoyed photography, carried her Brownie camera. An officer walked besides her, carrying the tripod stand. The officer placed down the stand before the Tsarina mounted the Brownie camera upon it.

"My little darlings, it is time to take a picture!" the Tsarina spoke, aiming the camera.

All four Grand Duchesses smiled at the camera, and it flashed to forever immortalize their moment in black and white. Nicholas, Dmitri, and the two officers watched the scene. All of them felt at peace, with no worries from revolutionaries, political tensions, and riots. In that moment, Livadia felt like paradise on earth. Eventually, the Romanovs returned to the palace grounds. However, Nicholas and Alexandra saw a blonde man in uniform waiting outside the palace. Nicholas the Second felt uneasy. What was an agent of the Okhrana secret police doing there? The four Grand Duchesses wore confused expressions on their faces. Dmitri felt concern. Something wrong had happened.

"Agent Sasha. Your presence is unexpected," Nicholas said, giving an intense gaze at the agent.

"I deeply apologize, but we have received a letter from spies, specifically those who have monitored the whereabouts of Mikhal Vaganov. He is a dangerous Bolshevik, and my fellow agents have tracked him to Yalta in the proximity of Livadia. Several known sympathizers and other Bolsheviks have followed him. At this moment, they may be planning... an attack," the agent said, maintaining a cool composure.

Alexandra gasped, and the four Grand Duchesses shifted their feet with unease. Nicholas narrowed his eyes. "How has he gotten _this_ close to our destination?" he hissed.

"I believe that there is a traitor in the ranks of your escorts."

"Have you found out who?"

"No. His real identity remains unknown to us."

"Then this issue is worse than I thought. Tell your fellow agents to apprehend Mikhal Vaganov as soon as possible."

"As you command, my Tsar," Sasha said, bowing.

The agent entered the palace, disappearing around a corner. The Romanovs entered the palace, as their escorts followed them, shutting the doors behind them. All their happiness from their earlier frolicking had been replaced with fear.

"What will happen, Papa?" Anastasia asked, her face etched with worry.

"I do not know, but we must remain cautious. We must stay within the palace building. I will talk with the staff and my guard commander to prepare for an attack."

"Oh, Nicky... how will we remain safe?" Alexandra asked, clasping her hands together in fright.

"Do not worry, my Sunny. A few pesky, ragtag revolutionaries will never hold up against dozens of armed guards and officers. We will be safe."

All the Romanov sisters could do was hope that their father was right...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Okhrana was the "secret police" of the Russian Empire. Think of the Soviet Cheka or KGB, but for the monarchy. Certainly, the agency will play a larger role as more chapters are transferred here.
> 
> All of the murderers of the Romanovs from the original timeline such as Yakov will play a bigger role as the story continues. They would still be hard set on eliminating the monarchy like in the original timeline (referred as the OTL from now on)


	11. First Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Nicholas II of Russia attempts to prepare palace security measures, the revolutionaries under Mikhail Vaganov's command prepare to strike at their targets.

Nicholas the Second entered the White Hall again. His guard commanders and agents were dressed in their uniforms and suits, sitting in their seats around the table. They waited in silence for their Tsar to take his seat and begin the meeting.

"God save the Tsar!" the commanders said.

Nicholas looked at each of his agents. and he hoped that none of them were the traitor. He trusted Agent Sasha, as he had done years of service in the Imperial Military and spoke about his feelings against the Bolsheviks. The loyal agent had called them a lot of dirty brutes and fear mongers based on his experience spying on them. His father, a loyal Tsarist, had been shot to death by a Bolshevik assassin. Since the incident, the devotion Agent Sasha had for his Tsar grew. Nicholas nodded at Agent Sasha, who held the intelligence reports. Sasha passed the reports to another agent, who passed them to the Tsar. Once he held the papers, the Tsar squinted at the print. The agents silently waited for a response from the Tsar.

"Interesting. Those assassins have gone to great lengths to cover their footsteps and conceal their weapons," Nicholas mused.

A few minutes later, the Tsar had a troubled expression. "A shredded copy of the Livadia palace floor plans and schedule was found in an St. Petersburg apartment, dated during 1910," he read.

"Agent Sasha, you may speak first," he said a moment later.

"The situation is serious, Your Majesty. Even after searchings of the watchlisted people's homes, we have only found those in one of their homes. Only copies of the Communist Manifesto have been found besides that. No other weapons or Bolshevik items were found, not even hammer and sickle buttons or badges. They obviously have well-laid plans to remain inconspicuous and hard to track." the blonde suited man spoke.

"Then I have no choice but order a search of all guards and officers' rooms."

"What about the rooms of your daughters?"

"No, they would never go against me to jeopardize my life with some threat of an attack. I am their father, and they love me with all their hearts," Nicholas said after shaking his head no.

"What if the hidden traitor conceals his items in their rooms?"

Nicholas remained silent for a moment, considering the words of his trusted agent. "Alright, I will allow searches of their rooms. However, I will not allow my daughters to be placed on the watchlist or suspect list."

"As you wish, Your Imperial Majesty," Sasha said.

"Good. We will discuss other security measures now. You all may offer suggestions," the Tsar said.

Nicholas the Second placed down the papers, and he allowed the agents to discuss the matter with the commanders. A gentle breeze blew through the room from the open windows. At least the members of the security meeting would have the comfort of the pleasant weather. For now, the safety of the Romanov family was a priority. The lives of four young women, and the royal couple were in danger, and the agents knew that failure could not be tolerated. A single casualty would mean the end of their employment in the Okhrana.

"I suggest that night patrols be increased, with guard rotations every hour," one guard commander stated.

"It would be a good idea to place Livadia on lockdown. That way, there can be no escape for those potential assassins," another agent said.

Stroking his beard, the Tsar thought about the advice from his trusted agents and commanders. The lockdown suggestion seemed attractive, as the agent had a point. If all incoming and outgoing travel was blocked from Livadia, the assassins could not escape. Interrogations of people within the town would be easier. He nodded before voicing his approval.

"I have made my decision. Livadia and Yalta are to be placed on lockdown. I shall send all available agents to search every inn at night," he said.

"What about the patrols, Your Imperial Majesty?" a commander asked.

"The patrols will be made more frequent during day and night, and the officers and guards will be rotated every hour."

As the Tsar continued to talk with his agents, his four daughters and the kitchen servant remained in their bedrooms. As if nothing wrong had happened, the Big Pair and Small Pair stayed in separate bedrooms. Within the bedroom of the Small Pair, Anastasia, Maria, and Dmitri all sat on the floor, discussing what to do. Dmitri was very troubled. His new family, the Romanovs, were in danger of being killed. He abhorred the thought of losing the care of the royal family and most of all, his only friend: Anastasia. He had come too far to lose everything he had come to value, and being cast out into the streets again was not an option.

Anastasia said, "I hope that Papa will survive this, I do not know what I would do without him."

Silence lasted for a few moments before Dmitri spoke. "I feel the same. All of you are like my new family, and I cannot accept living a life back on the street again. I can never accept another life living in dirty alleys and eating scraps of bread, never! Most of all, I would lose Anya, my friend."

Anastasia smiled, and she hugged Dmitri. "Do not worry, Mitya. You will not lose me. It will take more than a few crazy old men to bring this princess down."

Dmitri laughed before Maria spoke. "Oh, Nastya. You and your sharp tongue as always."

"You and your dreams of having twenty children. I must ask, how will you make sure they all behave?"

"I- I do not know..." Maria trailed off, blushing.

Dmitri watched his friend pester her sister about her dreams of starting a large family. He could only wonder how the Big Pair stayed occupied while stuck in their bedroom. In the second room reserved for the elder Grand Duchesses, Olga sat in front of her desk, reading _The Prince_ again. Her sister, sitting on the camp cot, watched with interest. She personally disagreed with most statements of the book, but she did agree with a few of its main concepts. One concept was that a good ruler must maintain the fear of his or her subjects to stay in control. An excess of fear and hatred in the common people would lead to his or her downfall. Even as the Governess of the four Romanov sisters, she understood the importance of gaining respect.

"That must be the only book you read since we left Tsarskoe Selo," Tatiana commented.

"Of course! I find Machiavelli's principles to be reasonable," Olga replied.

"I disagree with some points within it."

"Why?"

"I believe that cruel acts by a ruler will only cause more hatred from the people."

"That is true if that ruler were excessively cruel. Ivan the Terrible is a perfect example of that. But, _some_ cruelty is necessary to maintain the fear that people have for their ruler. Imagine if you were Tsarina and the Bolsheviks assassinated your sisters, including me. What would you do to the Bolsheviks to keep control within your Empire?"

"I... I would execute those who had done the murders?" Tatiana hesitantly said.

"Exactly. Fear is necessary to keep control. Just as students obey a strict teacher, the people obey a strong ruler. This is why Papa has not been overthrown yet... because of his secret police and armed guards."

"You would be cruel to some, even if they were your family?"

"Tatya, no! I trust you. You are my sister. Consider the fact that I am not yet Tsarina."

"If Papa and Mama die, which is quite possible given the assassins nearby, you will be the youngest Tsarina of Russia. How would you feel?"

"I do not know," Olga said in a quieter tone.

"At least Mashka, Nastya, and I will be with you," Tatiana reassured, placing a hand on the shoulder of her eldest sister.

"That is pleasant to hear... I would not know what to do without you, Tatya. You always give me an idea of what to do, and I am the oldest!"

"I do not want you to be lost, but when my time comes-"

"No, I cannot allow my family to die an unnatural death! Losing Papa or any of you would break me!" Olga burst, her eyes beginning to water.

Tatiana took a deep breath. "Please, calm yourself."

Olga remained seated in the chair, and she wiped her eyes. Remembering the vision she had on the Standart, she shuddered. She could never unsee that dark possibility of what was to come.

* * *

Mikhal Vaganov sat in his chair, as he reached into his brass cigarette box to pull out his first cigar. Lighting the cigarette, he smiled at the thought of the upcoming attack on the Livadia Palace. He almost gloated upon seeing an imagined fantasy play out in his head: his rise as a hero for the Bolshevik cause. By killing the royal family, he would overthrow the Romanov dynasty with a near zero chance of seeing it restored. There was no doubt that Lenin or Trotsky would congratulate him for such an act, from his perspective. He smoked the cigar, sending a noxious puff of smoke into the air.

Over a dozen of his fellow comrades looked at the floor plans of the Livadia Palace, arguing over where to attack first. Yakov Yurovsky and another of his peers looked at the map, discussing possible points of entry.

"We could check the possibility of attacking at night on the side facing the sea."

"But, Comrade Yurovsky, there is an uphill slope at that area that may slow our ascent."

Yakov stroked his beard while thinking of another angle of attack. So far, with the idea of a single task force, the team had made little progress except for deciding to snipe all outer patrols before their main objective. The team would have to assassinate the royal couple and grand duchesses if they were found. As Yakov looked at the map, he decided that the beginning of the assassination would need changes.

"Comrade Mikhal?" Yakov asked.

"Yes, Comrade Yurovsky?" Mikhal said, getting up from his chair.

"I believe that attacking as two separate teams would be to our advantage. One team will act as a decoy attack at the front entrance, as they snipe the front guards. Meanwhile, the second team will wait for the other alerted guards to join the front entrance. Once there is a gap in the patrols, the second team will enter the windows and infiltrate the interior. Timing is important... The last four will take out the guards at the escape point by surprise."

"That is an excellent idea, much better than a simple frontal assault. Distractions would be a good strategy."

The change to the plan was accepted by the comrades, and they believed that the plan could work. The past few days had a new moon, which would emit little to no moonlight. With poor visibility in the dark, the team would face less difficulties with their approach. An hour later, the team had just finished planning, but a few knocks sounded on the door. The Okhrana agents had arrived to their inn, and Mikhal froze still.

"Hide the papers! Act normal!" Mikhal whispered.

The five other men put away the papers and other items under their mattresses. Mikhal placed on his eye glasses and he walked to the door, as his five companions took out their books and drinks. Yakov pretended to read his copy of _War and Peace,_ and the others pretended to play cards. The knocks on the door sounded again, and Mikhal opened the door to see two suited men outside.

"Hello, sir. This is Agent Ivanko, and he is Agent Paulov. We need to search your bedroom by order of His Imperial Majesty Nicholas the Second," one dark-haired man spoke.

"Of course," Mikhal said, opening the door further.

The two agents entered the room, and Mikhal smirked while they looked around the room. They would never find the plans of his attack, as no one would check between the mattresses and bed frames. A few minutes passed as the agents searched the travel cases of the six disguised Bolsheviks. Then, the agents opened the room cabinets, and they squinted with suspicion as the dark-haired man removed a single bullet from one cabinet.

"Tell us, what is _this_ doing here?" the dark-haired man spoke, taking out his pistol.

"We plan to go hunting in the woods around Livadia," Mikhal said, as the agent faced him.

" _Yerunda._ That is a pistol round, not a rifle round."

"We could not afford hunting rifles, Agent Paulov. They are expensive."

"You are a terrible liar. No sane man uses shorter-ranged pistols to hunt squirrels in the woods."

The other agent, a blonde man, looked at the other five. Yakov placed down his book, and he shrugged. His appearance needed to be decieving enough to fool the agents. The agent maintained his cold stare, and he revealed his pistol. Yakov knew that the agents would soon stumble upon the stash of semi-automatic pistols and short rifles hidden in the nightstand. He needed to interrupt the investigation or else the plan would fall apart.

"It was a challenge we thought of, Mikhal bet me fifty rubles that I could not do so," Yakov said, gripping his pistol underneath the covers.

The blonde agent spoke. "More _yerunda_. More bullshit. You are all coming with us to the-"

Yakov quickly took out his pistol and shot the blonde agent in the head, and he smiled in glee as his victim fell to the ground. Ivanko aimed his pistol at Yakov, shooting him in the arm, forcing the Bolshevik to drop his pistol. Yakov gritted his teeth, and he looked at Mikhal. His leader tackled the agent to the floor, and they grappled arms, rolling over on the floor. The other men also stopped their fake card game before restraining the agent.

"Now, we are in control now. Any last words?"

"God save the Tsar.. and damn you traitorous _podonoks_."

Mikhal took the pistol and fired it into the skull of the last agent, who slumped on the floor dead once his comrades let go. The agents had been eliminated. However, the sixteen Bolsheviks faced the task of hiding the bodies in their room and escaping the inn.

"All of you, hide the bodies in the shower. We will move out of here after packing our weapons in the luggage."

"Yes, Comrade Mikhal!" the men all said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unlike the original version of the story on FFN, there are more revolutionaries with Mikhail Vaganov to attempt the murders. The confrontation is coming up next, and I hope that my edits will make their plan unfold in a plausible way.


	12. Clash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On one May night in Livadia, the infamous Livadia Palace Raid of 1912 occurs... Things will never be the same for OTMA, their friends, and Dmitri.

_May 1, 1912_

The skies were darker, only illuminated by the feeble light from distant stars. Under the dim skies, the Livadia Palace was illuminated from within. The guards and officers stood at watch within the palace. A handful of armed guards patrolled in circles around the palace building. The Tsar and Tsarina felt confident that no intruders would breach the palace, so the royal family slept in their bedrooms without a second thought. Midnight arrived. Silence filled the air, and the guards at the front entrance began their small talk. They had seen nothing conspicuous for the previous three hours. The need to relieve their boredom was overwhelming.

"It is so quiet you can hear the leaves fall, Alex," the taller guard said, looking at his peer.

" _Da,_ Oleg _._ It is too quiet," the shorter one spoke.

"I do enjoy the silence. It helps me keep a clear mind."

"I hate the silence. It bores the shit out of me," the shorter guard muttered, taking a cigarette and lighter from his pouch.

"At least it will be easier to hear any intruders come, if they are stupid enough to even try that."

The shorter guard lit his cigarette. "You have a point."

"Marco!" a voice called out.

"Polo!" the taller guard replied.

"Every three minutes, we need to say that?"

"Precisely. That is to make sure that all guards know that their other pairs are safe. If not, then most guards will rush to the nearest unresponsive pair. That is the plan, Alex."

Another three minutes passed, and the guards called out Marco again. The pair at the front entrance replied Polo. Before the guards could converse again, they heard a twig snap in the distance. The taller guard and his shorter friend looked at each other. For certain, there was someone approaching through the trees in front of the plaza. Both guards took out their rifles and aimed them at the trees.

"It is time, Alex," the taller guard spoke, his brown eyes focused on his peer."

The shorter guard yelled, "Yellow! Yellow!"

Soon, the nearest two pairs of guards arrived, one of them carrying a lantern. The auburn haired guard, known as Gregor, looked around and shook his head. He placed down his lantern on the pavement.

He began to voice his disbelief. "There is nothing around her-"

A bang sounded, and Gregor clutched his chest and groaned. He collapsed to his knees before falling to the ground. Alex, startled by the fall of his fellow guard, aimed his rifle at the darkness and returned fire. The other five guards aimed their rifles at the trees, firing. The sound of a few shots disrupted the silence of the night. After shooting, the guards looked at each other in confusion. No response could be heard.

"We killed the varmint. Now, stay here while we check for any more intruders," the other three guards spoke to Alex and Oleg.

The three guards disappeared into the darkness, before three shots could be heard in quick succession. Oleg knew that they had just been shot. Within a few moments, the remainder of the guards who stood outside the palace rushed to the front entrance and raised their rifles. Twenty guards, including Alex and Oleg, fired at the bushes and trees.

"One of you, go inside and alert the others!" Alex said.

Oleg opened the front doors of the palace and ran inside. He saw a pair of guards turn a corner, and he yelled, "We are under attack!"

As Oleg alerted the guards inside, a few officers heard the notice. One of them, Pavel, ran to the bedrooms of the royal family. Filled with desperation, he knocked on the door of the bedroom of the Big Pair. He could not bear the thought of seeing his companion being shot in her sleep.

"Your Highnesses, we are under attack!"

Pavel continued to knock and pound on the door for two minutes before it opened. The next thing he knew, he was punched in the face. Pavel raised his fists to defend himself, but then he recognized the young woman in front of him. Olga stood in front of him, and she hesitated to punch the man in front of her once she recognized him. Tatiana stood behind Olga, squinting under the bright interior lights. The eldest Grand Duchess gasped once she saw the reddening cheek of her friend.

"Oh, Pavel! I am so sorry!" Olga said, placing a hand over her mouth.

Pavel flashed his signature grin, and said, "You punch pretty hard for a princess."

"Just because I am a woman does not mean I cannot punch as hard as a man!"

"Please, calm yourself. We are under attack, and I need to bring your family into the hidden basement."

"What? There is a hidden basement?"

"Yes! We must hurry and get your sisters and parents out of bed."

The Big Pair proceeded to the bedroom of the Little Pair to rouse them from their sleep. Anastasia groaned, opening her eyes. Maria opened her large blue eyes, stirring underneath the bed covers.

"Olya, what is going on now?" Anastasia asked, rubbing her eyes.

"Officer Pavel needs to send us to a hidden basement. We will hide there until it is safe to come out," Olga said.

"What about Mama and Papa?" Maria asked, frowning.

"Do not worry. Just hide. We will wake them now," Pavel said.

Nicholas awoke to the sound of distant gunfire and a pounding on his bedroom door. He sat up in his bed, and he widened his eyes in realization. The assassins had arrived, and they were engaging the outer guards in combat. He faced his wife, caressing her cheek with his hand. Another series of knock sounded on his door, and he got out of bed. He grabbed his Mauser C96 pistol from his nightstand, and he opened the door, aiming his gun at the man in front of him. Nicholas recognized him, and he lowered his gun. More distant shots sounded.

"Officer Pavel, what is happening?" Nicholas said.

"I have been notified to bring your family to the hidden floor," Pavel replied.

"Then we have no time to waste. I must wake up my wife, and you bring my daughters to safety, now!" Nicholas said, handing Pavel a small key.

Pavel took the key. "Yes, Your Imperial Majesty!"

Pavel took Olga by the arm and led the four Grand Duchesses through the various hallways of the second floor, when they heard the sound of shattering glass. Pavel stopped at the top of the stairs. The intruders had entered the palace building. Pavel reached into his holster, taking out his Mauser C96 pistol. At long last, the importance of the situation hit Olga. She shivered. If her parents died, she would be Tsarina. If her entire family died, a civil war would happen in the power vacuum. At least hundreds of thousands of people would die in the chaos.

"Stay behind me, Your Highnesses. I have a feeling that we will run into bad company," he murmured, gripping his pistol even tighter.

Stepping down the stairs, Pavel and all four Romanov sisters reached the first floor. Pavel looked around the hallway, and two guards approached them. They widened their eyes in disbelief. How did the Tsar give permission to a lowly junior officer to escort the Grand Duchesses?

"Officer Pavel, how were you allowed to escort the Imperial Highnesses?" a black-haired guard said.

"Arty, the Tsar has given me permission to escort them to floor zero," Pavel said.

"Ah, you mean the secret basement. We will join you," the black-haired guard replied.

The two guards stood by Pavel, and the three men led the Grand Duchesses through the hallways of the first floor. Turning a corner, Pavel and the two guards saw a gruesome sight. The bodies of three guards laid on the ground, oozing blood from bullet wounds in their chests. Maria placed a hand over her mouth in disgust, feeling a bout of sickness. She had heard rumors of people dying from starvation in Siberia, but this was different. The three hapless men had been murdered by the intruders, never to see family and friends on earth again.

Olga, making an attempt to not gag at the odious smell of blood, picked up another Mauser pistol from a fallen guard. She thought back to the few times that her father had brought her to the shooting range at Spala just a few months before. There, Olga had learned how to shoot a pistol for the first time. Now, she would probably need that skill. Her life hung in the balance, considering that she was the true heiress to the throne. Tatiana took another pistol from another fallen guard. She grimaced at the black-painted steel body of the gun. She detested killing, but she faced a higher chance of doing it for her sisters. Although the Little Pair were separate from the Big Pair, Tatiana and Olga still cared about them. The thought of seeing their sisters lying lifeless upon the floor scared them. With shaking hands, the Big Pair sisters cocked their pistols.

"Lord, forgive us for what we may do," Olga said, crossing herself.

After steeling his resolve, Pavel took a deep breath and spoke. "I hope that you two know how to use those pistols. Anyway, we must get to the secret basement. Try not to waste your rounds _if_ we engage in combat."

The two guards and the Big Pair nodded. Pavel led the four Romanov sisters to the west side of the palace. As Pavel opened the door to a bedroom with a picture of a uniformed man, Olga knew where they were. They had stepped into the suite of Grand Duke Dmitri Pavlovich. Searching for the hidden hatch, Pavel and the two guards found a keyhole embedded in the floor. The young officer then turned the key in the keyhole, and a click could be heard. A section of the floor popped upwards, revealing a steel ladder leading down into a dark room.

"Go, go!" Pavel said in a frantic whisper.

"But what about Mama and Papa?" Anastasia asked.

"They would want you and your sisters to be safe, Your Imperial Highness. Now go!"

Anastasia and her sisters descended the ladder before Pavel closed the trapdoor, trapping the Romanov sisters in complete darkness. Now all the four Grand Duchesses could do was wait until their guards opened the trapdoor. For a few moments, the sisters could only hear their breathing. Olga felt around in the darkness for anything that would activate a light. Finally, Olga felt a small switch, and she turned it on. A single light bulb mounted in the ceiling flickered to life, bathing the room in golden light.

"We are safe, but I say that we should remain silent," Tatiana whispered.

"I hope Mama and Papa are alright," Olga said, and the Little Pair nodded in agreement.

In the suite, the two guards left the room. Pavel now stood alone in the room, and he now had the responsibility of watching the suite.

* * *

Anna Demidova, Dmitri, and the servants sat in the seats within the Livadia Palace church, praying. Named the Church of the Exaltation of the Cross, the church was a dedicated place for the Romanov family and servants to worship. Now it was a refuge for the royal staff: servants, a few guards, and some officers. The rest of the guards and officers were searching the first floor for the assassins. Dmitri hoped with all his heart and soul that his Anya and her sisters had found safety. Ending his silent prayer, Dmitri looked at the royal handmaiden sitting beside him. Her blue eyes were watery. Anna could not bear the thought of losing her friend, Tsarina Alexandra Feodorovna.

"I hope that God will protect my friend. If he does not do so for whatever reason, I believe that he will accept them into His kingdom," Anna said, crossing herself.

Dmitri could only nod, as his mother had taught him the ways of the Russian Orthodox faith. "And the Romanovs as well."

"And the souls of those who attack us even now, for they do not understand."

"I am not sure about doing that. Those Bolsheviks only seek to kill innocents because of their blood relations."

"Yet Jesus still forgave those who crucified him. I think he would do the same for the Bolsheviks."

* * *

The two guards raced to the upper floor, where they caught a glimpse of three black suited men going around a corner. One of them yelled for the figures to stop, but the suited men continued to run, opening doors whenever possible. Yakov Yurovsky scowled when he hear the sounds of voices behind him. He grit his teeth, and whispered for his fellow revolutionaries to stop and turn around. They did, and they raised their guns at the royal guards in a fluid motion. Before the guards could even load their pistols, they received a brutal onslaught of multiple bullet rounds. Smoke and deafening bangs filled the corridor, until the guards collapsed onto the floor. Seeing that the guards were pocked with bloody bullet holes, Mikhal gestured for his two trusted aides to stop. Soon, the Tsarina and Tsar would meet the same fate.

"Come, comrades, we must check the bedrooms," Mikhal said.

"Yes, Mikhal," Yakov and his friend, Alexander, replied.

Upon arriving at the empty bedrooms of the Grand Duchesses, Mikhal cursed. " _Blyat!_ Where did they go?"

"They must be hidden in the palace somewhere. But, we must kill the Tsar and the German bitch," Alexander said.

Checking the bedroom of the Tsar and Tsarina, the three men grew frustrated. If the royal couple had not been seen on the first floor and second floor, where had they gone? Keeping silent, the three men heard a faint creak from a room further down the hallway.

"It came from the servants' room!" Alexander said.

"Good ears, old friend. Now is the time," Mikhal replied, reloading his pistol.

Yakov grinned, stroking his beard at the thought of shooting the Tsar. Soon, he would fulfill his duty, and the power vacuum created by the loss of the royal couple would benefit his fellow revolutionaries. Alexander also seemed giddy with the thought of shooting the Tsarina. But the lack of guards in the second floor made the three men suspicious. Could they have been trapped?

The three Bolsheviks made their way to the servants rooms, and they opened one door to find a familiar face. Mikhal smiled, and the naval officer smiled back. The officer was none other than Viktor, the friend of Pavel Voronov. He was the true traitor. Mikhal, happy that he had found his inside agent, asked him where the Tsar had gone.

"They asked me to guard this hallway and surprise anyone who came here. Of course I would not do anything to my fellow comrades that I hold dear," Viktor answered in a whisper.

"Your loyalty is admirable, Viktor. But, you still need to tell us where the Tsar and Tsarina are," Mikhal whispered.

"They did not tell me."

"Dammit... Well, at least you can join us."

"Would it be better for me to remain here to keep my cover?"

"Actually, that would work even better. Stay here, and if anyone asks you, say that nobody passed here."

"Yes, _comrade_."

The three men left Viktor in his room, making sure to leave the door closed. Another door opened, and two guards stepped out. Overcome with fear, the three assassins ran around a corner, as bullets narrowly missed their heads. Still, the two guards pursued them. Mikhal and Yakov then thought of places where the royal couple could be hiding. The possibility of them hiding in the Florentine tower was quite likely.

"Die, Bolshevik pigs!" one guard yelled, aiming his pistol.

"You cannot escape!" the other guard announced.

Yakov felt his heart beat faster. The risk of death was greater than ever. He needed a quick idea to eliminate the guards, and he wondered if there were only a few guards within the second floor. Turning another corner, he made sure his pistol was loaded and turned around to face the guards. He fired his pistol at the guards, and the first shot hit the taller guard in the chest. In an instant he was dead, but Yakov felt a stinging ache in his chest. He had been shot. Out of fright, the guard had shot his upper chest, missing his heart by inches. The last remaining guard shot past Yakov, and he heard the sound of a person hitting the floor. He looked back to see Alexander lying on the floor, clutching his chest.

" _Nyet!_ " Yakov screamed, and he looked back at the guard, who smirked.

How dare he smirk at the death of his fellow comrade? The image of Tsar Nicholas smirking at the Bloody Sunday protesters infuriated him, and he grit his teeth. The image of the Tsarina ignoring the suffering of her people only stoked his anger. They needed to die, along with every fool who pledged loyalty to them. They were not people, but they were only liabilities to the upcoming revolution.

Yakov cocked his pistol at the guard, and he fired four times at the head of the guard until all he could see was a mutilated, bloodied face. The corpse of the guard collapsed onto the floor with a dull thud, splattering blood droplets on the carpeted floor. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and Yakov gazed at his leader.

"His sacrifice will be honored, comrade. We must focus on the Tsar and Tsarina, time is of the essence," Mikhal said with a weary gaze.

" _Da_. I would like to fulfill Comrade Alexander's wish to kill the German _cyka_ ," Yakov uttered.

"You may, Yakov."

"Then let us go to the Florentine Tower. They must be in there."

Yakov and Mikhal, after a few minutes, found the staircase leading up the tower, and they ascended it. Both men, keeping their raw anger controlled, attempted to keep their steps silent. When they reached the top room, the two men heard a shrill scream. Yakov turned around to see the Tsar gazing at them, holding his wife who shook with fright.

" _Dosvidanya,_ " Yakoy coldly said, pointing his pistol with a steady hand at the Tsarina.

"Not quite," Nicholas said, drawing his pistol-

Alexandra closed her eyes, attempting to utter a prayer. A stattaco of bangs resounded in the room.

The Tsarina, the most hated woman in Russia, grunted as one bullet tore through her arm. Another bullet tore its way into her abdomen, increasing her agony. Blood spurted from her body, and she cried out in pain as she clutched her abdomen. She did not have to suffer long, as the final bullet pierced her skull. The Tsar embraced the still warm corpse of his wife even tighter. He closed his eyes, hoping that it would be over soon. Hopefully, he would see his children and stillborn son in the afterlife, if not on this world. His final thought was a wish that his cherished Olga would survive.

Mikhal and Yakov fired their pistols at the Tsar before he could fire. They watched with satisfaction as their target slumped on the floor, dead. His once handsome head had been mutilated with multiple gaping bullet wounds, oozing crimson blood onto the carpeting. Both of the men lowered their pistols, and they left the room. Thanks to the other four of their men entering the palace to distract the other guards inside, they escaped through the broken window on the first floor. Against the odds, both men had made a perfect escape. Although the other revolutionaries had kept the guards distracted for some time, they soon met their end.

Yakov, Mikhail, and a couple of other assassins ran in the darkness until they reached a checkpoint of a few guards, overwhelming them with another surprise attack.

"Pathetic," Mikhail said, spitting on the bodies.

"We must go," Yakov said.

The revolutionaries then went into the surrounding forests, and they found their automobile hidden in the foliage. They had done it. All that was needed was to mobilize the peasants and workers to revolt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite my edits, I did not want to make the chapter too drawn out. If some of the scenes need more specific details, I can always go back and revise them.
> 
> All Russian profanity words (blyat, cyka, and podonok) have been researched for accurate use and used to add some extra emotion.
> 
> To clear up any misconceptions, I would say that the revolutionaries could not see or find OTMA in time. Even then, there would be too many guards that would overwhelm them if they confronted Pavel and his other peers.


	13. Grief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now orphaned, the Romanov daughters must cope with their new reality. Olga is now the direct successor to the throne.

After eliminating the last three assassins, the guards and officers had swept the entire Livadia Palace to find signs of another break-in. Apparently, the attack at the front entrance was an effective diversion. The other assassins had covered their tracks to and from the palace quite well, taking advantage of the new moon and dense foliage. All that could be found was a destroyed window in the bedroom meant for the Tsarevich. The remaining guards and officers searched the second floor. To their dismay, they found the bodies of the royal couple in the Florentine Tower. As each of the few guards looked at the corpses of the late Tsar and Tsarina, each of them felt a sense of failure. Their assumption that the first floor would be impenetrable proved wrong, and the assassins had breezed through a nearly empty second floor to murder the royal couple.

However, hope remained. Pavel had kept the four Grand Duchesses safe in the secret panic room, and he remained at guard in the suite of Grand Duke Dmitri Pavlovich. Also, the servants and other royal staff had been spared. These thoughts somewhat lifted the spirits of the eight guards in the Florentine Tower.

"Aleksey... we failed," a black-bearded guard sighed, taking off his hat.

"No, we did not, Nikita," Aleksey, a brown-haired guard, replied.

"But the Tsar and Tsarina are dead! How can you say that?"

"There is another hope, old friend. She lives at this very moment alongside her three sisters."

Nikita, the black-bearded guard, wore an expression of confusion. "You mean... Her Imperial Highness Olga?"

" _Da_."

"Did the Pauline Laws change? If not, women still cannot rule over Russia."

"They were changed, but the new Nicholas Laws were kept confidential from the public for security reasons. They allowed Tsar Nicholas the Second to name his successor."

"I hope that Her Highness will bring Russia to peace and prosperity."

"Do not worry. I am sure that the eldest Romanov daughter will make a good Tsarina."

The eight guards split themselves into two groups of four. Each group of guards, without a word, carried the corpses downstairs. They huffed out breaths as they carried the weight of their late rulers. As the group of guards walked within the first floor, the other guards, officers, and a priest joined them. They all stopped carrying the bodies once they arrived outside the front entrance, where five carpets laid on the ground. Upon the first three carpets, the bloodied bodies of three suited men laid still. These were the three heavily armed Bolshevik attackers who had worn silk vests and some thin metal plating under their suits, making them harder to kill. Only headshots finished them off, but by then, a dozen guards had been killed.

Laying down the two corpses of the late Tsar and Tsarina, the guards took a moment to regain their breath. As the guards looked at each other, reality finally settled into their minds. It had all happened within an hour. Within that hour, they had lost their Tsar and Tsarina, and the future of the Russian Empire now rested in the hands of a seventeen-year-old Tsarina-to-be. They had made assumptions about the security of the palace, and they had paid the price. At the very least, some hope remained.

"Can you tell Officer Pavel that the attack is over?" Aleksey asked Nikita, who nodded.

Nikita entered the palace. After looking around the main hallway, he found the door to the suite of Dmitri Pavlovich. Trying the doorknob, the guard noticed it was locked.

"Officer Pavel, this is Guard Nikita. The attackers... they are either gone or eliminated," the guard said.

The door opened, and Pavel peered out of the gap. "Good. How has the royal couple fared?"

"They were found shot in the Florentine Tower, I am sorry."

"What? How did they get within the palace?"

"The guards, including myself, have searched the first floor. We did find a completely destroyed window in the Tsarevich's bedroom. Three sledgehammers were found outside, so they must have used those to gain entry through the window."

Pavel trailed off. "So, the attack on the front entrance..."

"...was a diversion. Those damn Bolsheviks were quite clever. They had somehow gotten some information on the palace security measures," Nikita finished.

Pavel sighed. "And I assume that the traitor has not been found yet."

"No."

"I do not know how to tell the girls that their parent are dead, Guard Nikita."

"Just offer your condolences. There is nothing we can to to change what happened before, but only go onward."

Pavel opened the trapdoor in the floor, and the four Grand Duchesses looked up at him. Pavel nodded his head to indicate that they were safe, and Olga ascended the ladder out of the basement along with her sisters. She sighed with relief. At least the attack had ended. Olga looked with confusion at the other guard standing beside Pavel. Nikita wore a frown, not making eye contact with the Romanov sisters. Had something gone wrong?

Tatiana also seemed worried. She wondered if her parents, especially her mother, had survived. Despite her hopes, she felt uncertain about whether her parents survived. If the royal couple were still alive, she would have received news that they were. The Little Pair also felt the same, and they were curious about what had become of their parents.

"Is Mama alright? What about Papa?" Anastasia asked Pavel.

Pavel remained silent, and he sighed. "Your Highness... your parents are dead."

"No... No... it cannot be!" Anastasia said, shaking her head as her sisters froze with their mouths agape in a silent gasp.

Nikita knew that it would be difficult to tell the girls the terrible news. They would never socialize with their parents again. They would never see their mother in the knitting gifts in the Mauve Room again. They would never laugh with their father again. Their parents had been lost within a fateful hour, never to return until the girls departed to beyond.

"Based on what the other guards have said, your parents have passed on," Nikita said.

"No, no, no..." Anastasia said, continuing to shake her head.

"Pavel, please escort the girls to the front yard," Nikita asked.

"Yes, Guard Nikita."

Pavel led the four princesses outside the palace, and they stopped in front of the fresh corpses of their parents. The shock that the four Romanov daughters had disappeared, and their eyes moistened. Tatiana knelt down, stroking the hair of the body of her mother. She was the closest to her mother out of all four sisters. Seeing the terrible sight of her mother in eternal rest, she was unable to restrain her tears any longer. Covering her face with her hands, she sobbed.

Olga sobbed next to the body of her father. She had been particularly close to him. Her father would confide in her about politics within the Russian Empire, and he spent more time with her than the rest of her sisters except for Anastasia. She remembered the time that her father persuaded her mother to withhold a paddling after an outburst. She remembered her father reading bedtime stories to her. She remembered him calling her his "little empress". No, she would never forget her father, and she would honor his legacy as the next ruler of Russia.

Anastasia and Maria cried, embracing each other. They knew their parents had simply passed onto the afterlife, but they could not bear the thought of their parents dying a painful death. Because of royal blood, the deceased royal couple had paid the penalty of death. The thought of their loving, kind mother being tortured by the attackers only made them cry harder. The Little Pair and Big Pair were now separated from their beloved parents for the remainder of their lives.

"Oh, Mama!" Maria cried.

The priest gave a sympathetic look at the four young women sobbing and crying for their parents. He spoke to them. "I am sorry to see that our Tsar and Tsarina have departed. May we give the final blessings and words for them?"

All four of the Romanov daughters nodded, still sobbing. The servants and the remainder of the palace staff came out of the front entrance. Spotting Dmitri, Anastasia gestured for him to come to her. Dmitri embraced her while she cried, saying, "He was like my second father, Anya. I can't believe he's gone."

Anastasia spoke, sniffling. "He was my Papa... my brave and kind Papa."

"He really was," Dmitri replied.

Maria and Tatiana nodded. "I do not know how we can find out way without Mama," Tatiana said.

Olga looked at the Little Pair, wiping her eyes. "Perhaps we will, they would want us to go on."

After the staff and the four Grand Duchesses ceased their flow of tears, the priest announced that the prayer would begin. They clasped their hands, lowering their heads as the priest gave his rites. The guards stood still around the front yard and perimeter of the palace. Out of respect for the departed and for the ceremony, the guards kept silent. The four Grand Duchesses each gave their final words about their parents, and Anna wiped her teary eyes. She mourned the loss of her Tsarina, her closest friend. Dmitri wore a forlorn look on his face as he watched two groups of guards exit the Livadia Palace. They carried two yellow cloths and two stretchers. Each one was emblazoned with the Romanov eagle crest: a two-headed eagle holding a scepter and crown.

The guards covered the bodies by traditional practice. All four Grand Duchesses and their loyal staff members watched them carry the two bodies back into the palace. Olga, being well informed from readings of some protocols, knew that the bodies would be temporarily placed in the Italian Courtyard before their burial. There, her Mama and Papa would rest for a short time. Olga looked back at her sisters as Pavel led her within the palace. Tearing herself from the arms of her guardian sailor, she approached her sisters. She was now the head of the Nikolaevna line, and her sisters would need her as their leader.

"We should go inside, we need to rest. If we allow the pain to overtake us, then the Bolsheviks have won," Olga spoke.

Tatiana nodded, but the Little Pair could not speak. They still struggled to regain their composure, struggling to bear the raw wounds within their hearts. Their grief was overpowering, absorbing their happiness like light fading into darkness. With reluctance to leave the bodies of their parents, the Little Pair followed the Big Pair inside the palace.

* * *

Dmitri and the Grand Duchesses found sleep to be elusive. The kitchen boy stared at the ceiling, thinking about the last time he saw the late royal couple. He thought of how generously the couple had donated for White Flower Day. It became clear to him that they were good-hearted people more fit to rule a family rather than a country. If the Bolsheviks made a mistake, it would be killing their hated aristocrats and royals when they were in good character.

He glanced at Anna Demidova, who sat in a chair at her desk and looked out the window. Not a word escaped her mouth for the entire hour that they remained in their quarters. Dmitri had never paid attention to other servants or handmaidens, but now he had a faint impression about the lost friendship that Anna and Alexandra shared. With their similar hair colors and blue eyes, they could almost pass as sisters. A few times, Dmitri had seen the Tsarina speak with her trusted handmaiden, with laughter heard from the Mauve Room. The two women were such close friends that they were almost like sisters.

Thinking about his friend, the Grand Duchess Anastasia, Dmitri knew that she had trouble sleeping like he did. Yet going outside his quarters was forbidden, as guards were patrolling the hallways.

"Dmitri?" Anna asked.

"Yes, Miss Demidova?"

"You must be thinking about your friend, right?"

Dmitri was silent for a moment. "Yes, I just wish that I could go to Anya's bedroom, and tell her that everything will be alright."

"Anya... you refer to Her Highness Anastasia?"

"That is what I call her, and she calls me Mitya."

"At least you still have your friend. I was unfortunate enough to lose mine, Tsarina Alexandra."

Considering what Anna had said, Dmitri was thankful that his best friend Anya was still alive. Still, it would be a long night. It would be hours before Dmitri and the four Grand Duchesses could finally sleep.


	14. The Coronation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After paying respects, Olga and her sisters return home, and they go to Moscow for the coronation. The history of the largest contiguous land empire in the world is changed forever.

_May 3, 1912_

A gentle breeze from the Black Sea blew through the many rows of the Yalta Cemetery. With saddened looks, four young women and an escort of guards looked at the marble mausoleum, the final resting place of the late royal couple. The mausoleum had been built from the order of Tsar Nicholas the Second a decade ago, as he knew his death was inevitable.

They remained wearing their white dresses, as the four Grand Duchesses and their guard decided that the death of the late Tsar and Tsarina must be kept secret. If not, the Bolsheviks would take advantage of the power vacuum and start revolts throughout the Russian Empire. Such an occurrence would mean doom for the Russian Empire and Romanovs. Olga, now declared as Tsarina according to the Nicholas Laws and her father's will, knew the importance of the situation. She would have to quickly fill the power vacuum of the throne before the revolutionaries did so. The thought of being imprisoned by a Bolshevik government unsettled her, reminding her of the dream she had before arriving in Livadia.

The four Romanov daughters each placed their flowers. Olga dropped a pink carnation flower in front of the mausoleum door, remembering her brave, kind father. Tatiana dropped a white rose, remembering the pious, strict, yet loving nature of her mother. The Little Pair, with watery eyes, dropped red roses. They were not as close to their parents compared to the Big Pair, but they still missed them. The feeling of loss still gnawed at their hearts, leaving a lasting ache that would not go away.

"Goodbye, Papa... Mama. For both of you, I promise that I will restore the dignity of the Romanov name once I become Tsarina. I will do everything in my power to make our motherland great again," Olga whispered.

"I trust that you can, Olya. You are the leader of our family now, and you have been preparing for this for years," Tatiana said, gently placing a hand on Olga's shoulder.

"Thank you, Tatya."

"You do not mind if I pay my respects as well?" a voice said behind her.

Olga turned around to see Pavel holding another pink carnation, and she nodded. Her favorite naval officer placed his carnation in front of the mausoleum, just as the four Grand Duchesses did. Her heart warmed at the sight of her crush paying respects for her parents. She wanted to spend more time with him and confess her feelings for him. However, such actions would be inappropriate... especially just after the death of her parents. Instead, she kept silent. It was a time for mourning rather than romance.

"I am sorry for your loss," Pavel said, the baritone of his voice pleasing to her ears.

"Do not feel too sorry over my loss, Officer Voronov. I deeply appreciate your sympathies, but I must remind you to not distract yourself from your duty to Russia."

"No need to worry, Your Imperial Highness. I understand what you mean. My heritage lies in the noble House of Voronov, and as nobles we have certain filial duties. I recall that my sister had to put away her feelings for a commoner boy to marry another nobleman... for the sake of our family reputation. So, I understand the importance of duty."

"You have a sister?"

"Yes, I do. I could eventually tell you more about her, she is a good woman."

Pavel returned to his fellow officers, who kept their distance from the four Grand Duchesses. All four of the young Russian princesses held their hands, making a silent prayer for God to guide them through their ordeal. Pavel interlocked his fingers to pray for his favorite Grand Duchess, his temperamental and intelligent Olga. He hoped that even if they did not stay together, Olga would find happiness and love. He was only a mere officer and a minor nobleman far below the station of the eldest Grand Duchess. Once the Grand Duchesses finished the prayer, they felt better with the knowledge that their parents now rested in a better existence.

The officers and guards lined up in two separated rows while the Grand Duchesses proceeded through the gap. As the Grand Duchesses returned to the Livadia Palace, the officers and guards escorted them, looking around to ensure that no threats were nearby.

Upon reaching the front lawn of the Livadia Palace, the four Grand Duchesses were relieved to see their staff exit the palace. In front of it, their family automobile idled by the curb. Instead of their father at the driver's seat, an Okhrana agent dressed in his brown suit manned the steering wheel. The agent looked at the four young women with a pitiful expression. The tragedy had hit the Romanovs and their staff hard, but they all knew that they needed to continue with life. They all had duties to fulfil for Imperial Russia, and they could not let their efforts to fulfill them falter. There was a Tsarina to coronate, and a great nation to fix.

Dmitri once again took his seat in the car, moving aside for Anna Demidova to take her seat. She held his hand, reassuring him that he was still not alone. He had a royal handmaiden for an older friend, and his Anya was still alive. He watched the Grand Duchesses enter their car. Anastasia looked back at the royal servant car, smiling at Dmitri. She hoped that her friend would be safe despite the emerging threat of the Bolsheviks. The thought of losing him was unthinkable. To not see his handsome brown eyed face and hear his sarcastic remarks would crush her heart. Even his stubbornness would be missed in such a situation.

"It is time for us to leave the vicinity of this palace, Your Highnesses. It may still be unsafe here," the agent said.

"I see. Take us to the Port of Yalta," Olga said.

The escort arrived at the port, which had no crowds to greet and express their support for the Romanovs. Orders from the Okhrana agency and local military enforced a daytime curfew lasting from morning to evening. The curfew would officially end two days after the surviving Romanovs left Livadia. The silence felt strange to the Grand Duchesses and their servants. It was eerily silent, except for the sounds of stray cats and dogs wandering the streets. With one last look at Livadia, the Romanov daughters and their loyal staff boarded the Standart...

* * *

_June 1, 1912_

A month passed, and the measures by the Okhrana were not enough to hide the news. Both Tsarist and and revolutionary alike knew that the former Tsar and Tsarina had passed. Since news of the Livadia palace raid had leaked into the public, riots and protests had quadrupled, placing strain on the Okhrana and military. The Russian Empire now appeared more vulnerable than ever, with its past rulers dead and public order fraying. Now was the time for the highly anticipated coronation of the new ruler of Russia.

Olga wore her ceremonial dress: an elegant masterpiece of royal attire. The dress clung around her with its smooth white silk fabric. The red sash of St. Catherine and the Grand Cross of St. Catherine were attached to the dress. She looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her dark blonde hair was tied in a coiffure, as long hair would appear unruly for a Tsarina. Her light blue eyes still shone with determination despite her tragic loss. Instead of an adolescent young girl, she appeared like an empress, feeling older than she really was. She would soon live up to the nickname given to her by her father: his little empress.

Tatiana entered the preparation room with poise, as her mother had taught her to live the refined ways of a royal. By the mirror stood her sister, surrounded by three servants checking every inch of her dress for imperfections. Tatiana felt proud for her elder sister. It was as if her heart lifted up, and her eyes watered. The tears were not of sadness but of love. Olga knew that her younger sister had entered the room, and she turned around to speak to her sister.

"Tatya, I thought you were not finished preparing for the ceremony!"

"My lady-in-waiting finished dressing me earlier. I just wanted to see if you are alright," Tatiana murmured.

"I feel... Oh, it is complicated!"

"Tell me. We are sisters, Olya, there is no need to hide secrets from each other."

" _What_ do you want me to say? That I feel burdened with so much... the loss of Mama and Papa, the attack, and now, the coronation?" Olga snapped.

Tatiana stepped back from the outburst of her eldest sister. "I will go if you do not want my presence-"

"No, I am sorry. I need you here... I feel so alone," Olga sighed, as her servants finished checking her ceremonial attire.

"Then I shall stay, dear sister."

Tatiana consoled her sister, saying that she should feel honored that she would receive the crown. Olga began to feel less anxious as her sister spoke to her. She dismissed her servants, who wasted no time in leaving the room. Before she would be received at the Red Porch of the Kremlin, she would spend more time with her sister. As the Governess of the four Romanov sisters, Tatiana was seen as their leader.

"I am happy to have you here, beside me. At least I will not bear this burden alone," Olga said.

Tatiana smiled, and she hugged her sister. She said, "I believe that you can accomplish what you must do. Mama and Papa must be proud of you, Olya. When you are crowned, remember that we stand beside you."

"I will never forget. I will not."

"Then I and the Little Pair will await your return to the Kremlin."

Olga nodded, and the door opened to reveal Anna Demidova, dressed in her special attire for the occasion. She also felt proud of the eldest daughter of her late mistress. Hopefully, she would continue to serve the new Empress of Russia after the coronation.

"It is time for your procession through Moscow, Your Imperial Majesty," she said.

* * *

The sounds of church bells ringing throughout Moscow permeated the air, as the soon-to-be Empress of Russia rode in her carriage. Behind her, the regalia items were carried by guards, stored in a long wooden box. Olga took a deep breath, attempting to calm herself. She had been on the throne for almost a month, and her coronation was merely a ceremony to cement her place as the new Empress of Russia. If she could handle the loss of her parents and a palace raid, she could handle a state ceremony. She mustered her inner strength, and she forced a smile at the crowds, waving her hand at them.

Both commoners and nobles stood at a distance, watching the procession. Most of them cheered, but some of them wore confused or even surprised expressions. The thought of a seventeen-year-old holding the throne of Russia seemed foreign to them. Despite the rumors of the compassionate and intelligent nature of the new Tsarina, some doubts persisted.

The procession stopped at the Dormition Cathedral, a Romanesque-style building with a modest size. Its gold topped domes shone in the sun, almost emitting a golden glow like painted halos upon icons of saints. Beside the path of the procession, generals, officers, and guards stood at attention. The cheering crowds watched the new Tsarina arrive at the cathedral doors, where the Patriarch of Russia stood in his white robes. Another priest held a small bowl of holy water for sprinkling the new ruler of Russia. Olga was offered a wooden cross, and she kissed it in accordance with tradition. As she did so, the other priest sprinkled her with the holy water.

Both of the front doors opened, revealing the spacious interior adorned with icons of saints, the apostles, and the Christ. After venerating the icons thee times, Olga reached the throne platform. The choirs seated around her began to sing the 101st Psalm from the Bible. The Patriarch then told her to recite the Nicene Creed minus the Filioque clause. She recited it as requested. She felt a pious and solemn feeling fill her being, knowing that she was being made the blessed ruler of her people. She was blessed by the prelate, and hymns were sung. Scriptures were read aloud.

As per new customs from the lack of a male ruler beside her, Olga removed the Order of St. Catherine from her dress. The Metropolitans of St. Petersburg and Kiev took the Order before clothing her in purple. The Metropolitans prayed for her, quoting Old Testament verses for her coronation rites. Finally, Olga would be crowned, and all people within the building kept silent in anticipation.

"Bishop Dimitrov, hand me the crown," Olga quietly said.

The Metropolitan bishop smiled to reassure the young Empress of Russia that everything would proceed smoothly, and he handed her the Imperial Crown. It was a beautiful adornment, glittering with diamonds and a single large ruby in the center. Despite its beauty, holding it in title would be a great burden. She placed it on her head, now feeling the weight of the crown. Just as she bore a weight on herself, she would bear her own duties as Empress.

"Most God-fearing, absolute, and mighty Lord, Empress of all the Russias, this visible and tangible adornment of thy head is an eloquent symbol that thou, as the head of the whole Russian people, art invisibly crowned by the King of kings, Christ, with a most ample blessing, seeing that He bestows upon thee entire authority over His people," Dimitrov recited, looking at Olga with his dark blue eyes.

Bishop Dimitrov was handed the scepter and orb, and he gave them to the new Empress, who held both of them.

"God-crowned, God-given, God-adorned, most pious Autocrat and great Sovereign, Emperor of All the Russias. Receive the sceptre and the orb, which are the visible signs of the autocratic power given thee from the Most High over thy people, that thou mayest rule them and order for them the welfare they desire," Dimitrov recited.

The choirs prayed for the wellbeing of the new Empress, as a staccato of bangs resounded outside. Over a hundred guns fired their blanks. The church bells rung for minutes, and the crowds cheered even louder. Some of them even chanted the anthem of the Russian Empire.

"God save the Tsarina!"

"Long live our Empress!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have done research into how the coronation processions and crowning went, hopefully it seems alright.


	15. Interrogations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With her wounds of grief still fresh from the loss of her parents, Olga begins to work for justice. Soon enough, the traitorous officer from the Standart is interrogated and cracks under pressure... yet how far will the new Empress go to find justice?

_June 8, 1912_

A week had passed since the much anticipated coronation, and the now three Grand Duchesses and new Empress of Russia took on their duties. Life in the palace continued as usual. Nothing had changed for the palace staff, as they were bound to their rigid rules and procedures. Nothing had changed for the millions of citizens of the Russian Empire yet. Business inside and outside the palace remained the same, but the citizens of the Russian Empire felt something new for the first time in years: hope. The young Empress was aware of the anticipation surrounding her newly christened reign, so she wasted no time in starting her duties. Eventually, she would have to select a new board of advisors.

Olga stepped into the study room that her late father often resided in. She almost expected to see him reading various papers, smiling up at his cherished, eldest daughter. The lamps were turned off, and the bookshelves and typewriter showed no signs of use. The room seemed dead. She looked around, seeing various miniature portraits of her deceased ancestors that silently watched her. It was almost as if she were being watched by their spirits. The thought made her shudder. Finally, she settled her gaze on the broad desk in the center of the room. She took her seat in the chair and turned on the lamp. The room became filled with light. Various family photos were illuminated, such as a photo of all four Grand Duchesses in the Mauve Room. For a fleeing instant, Olga felt a longing in her heart, wishing she could live another day in her earlier years.

"You were right, Papa... we grow up too quickly," she murmured, setting the framed photograph down.

Olga remained silent before adding, "But, to grow up is to learn to cast away the old childish ways..."

She looked through the reports, some of them outdated by over a month. The next monthly reports had not yet arrived, and this made the new Empress feel uneasy again. The thought of not knowing made her feel as if she lacked control. As the ruler of an empire spanning a quarter of all land on Earth, Olga found that unacceptable. She sighed, and looked over the reports again. At least she could extrapolate trends in the economy and public opinion. However, some statistics caught her gaze. Most of the protestors and rioters were lower-class peasants and workers. The rest of them were intellectuals and middle-class citizens.

She laid back in the chair, and she thought about what caused them to protest. She needed to resolve the issues that had gone unresolved under her father's reign, or else a revolution would occur. Judging by the violence among all the protests, it only took a bit of common sense to realize one thing. Imperial Russia needed to better treat the lower classes. Around ninety percent of all Russians were middle or lower class, and the aristocracy and nobility were no more than ten percent. If her regime were to survive, it would need a larger supporting base of citizens. Looking further through the reports, Olga thought about what actions to take.

One hour passed, and Olga had finished reading the reports. Now she understood the situation that the Romanov dynasty faced. The rigid, backwards ways of the monarchy would never work for the changing times. She knew that the Bolsheviks had plenty of support because of poor treatment of the lower classes. For certain, the peasants and laborers had lower literacy rates and income. That would have to change. Before she could delve deeper into her train of thought, a suited man approached the door. Olga glanced at the man and nodded. He then entered the study alongside two Okhrana agents.

"Your Imperial Majesty, we have found the most likely suspect for the Bolshevik spy who helped the murder of the late Tsar and Tsarina," the man said.

" _Who_ is he?" the young Empress firmly asked, feeling a surge of anger.

"His first name is Viktor. His parents were deceased, and he has one sister named Natasha. She is also in our custody for questioning."

Olga froze. Why did that name sound so familiar? She thought about who Viktor was, and a familiar face came to mind. A white uniformed, tall man with brown eyes. His large and angular nose gave his face a unique appearance, one that she had seen on the Standart while traveling to Livadia. A surge of anger overtook her. She recalled the lifeless stares of the corpses of her parents. She recalled the sounds of gunshots and screams that she heard in the secret hiding room. She took a deep breath, as she knew that she could not let her emotions interfere with her decisions. However, as a tempered young woman, that would be difficult for herself.

"Interrogate Viktor first. Leave his sister alone until further notice," she coldly spoke, her blue eyes simmering with anger.

"As you wish, Your Imperial Majesty," the tall agent spoke, bowing.

"Thank you, Agent Sasha. I will write my orders on paper," Olga said, writing on a wax sealed paper.

Olga gave the orders to the tall suited man, who bowed again. The agents left the room, and Olga sat back in the chair as she exhaled a breath. Soon, there would be justice for the sake of her parents. Finally, their souls would be at peace.

* * *

_Okhrana Headquarters, St Petersburg_

"Tell us the name who orchestrated the Livadia Palace raid."

Viktor remained silent in his electric chair, and he averted his gaze from the tall, blonde agent in front of him. Strapped down, all he could do was scowl at his captor. The agent nodded at another shorter agent who stood beside a large lever.

"Pull it."

" _Da_ , Agent Sasha."

Viktor shook and screamed as the twenty milliamps of raw electric current coursed through his body. He shook in violent convulsions, the chair shaking from the movements. The torment lasted for a few moments before Agent Sasha ordered the other guard to turn off the current. Viktor slumped back in his chair, his breaths came out ragged. Before he could lose consciousness, he felt a searing pain on his cheek. He jolted awake in shock, his mouth open in a gasp.

_Slap!_

"I grow tired of your silent game, two weeks is too long. If you will not comply, we will resort to more drastic methods," the blonde agent, Sasha, threatened.

Viktor gasped, and groaned, "Long live... the spirit of revolution-"

"Argh!"

Another round of intense electric fury was unleashed on the hapless Imperial Navy officer for a longer time. His body shook with convulsions so strong, that his arms were sprained. Viktor groaned from the pain. He reminded himself that the cause he supported was a higher one, and that the cruel methods of torture used on him would be exposed. The cruelty and backwardness of the Russian monarchy would soon be exposed while he gave his life for a higher cause. Soon, his role would be done. Viktor thought of his sister, and he felt pity for her. She had never spoken out or rebelled against the regime, but she was paying the price for his rebellion. If the new Empress ordered the torture of his sister, he would not be able to hold out much longer.

Sasha heard a knock at the door behind him. He gestured for the other agent to stay still. He opened the door, and another agent stepped in.

"Agent Oleg, what is your business?"

Oleg, looked at his peer with his brown eyes, and handed him a folded sheet of paper. Sasha opened it and read it.

"Viktor Sotlov, by order of Empress Olga the First of Imperial Russia, the interrogation of Natasha Sotlov is permitted effective immediately," Sasha read, throwing down the paper as soon as he finished reading.

"No, you are bluffing!"

"Well, that Empress is not one to bluff."

"Nyet! You lie!"

Sasha laughed, and he left the room with his fellow agents, who shut the door. As Viktor heard the door lock, a dreadful feeling swept over him. He could almost feel the goosebumps on his back. It was not long before the door opened again, and two agents entered the room again, holding a brunette woman dressed in a white dress. They tossed her slender frame onto the concrete floor, as if she were a sack of flour.

Natasha coughed, and she shivered from the cool air in the room. She looked at Viktor with a pained look. Her brown eyes looked sadder than ever. "Viktor... please..."

Viktor attempted to speak. "I-"

"Both of you, shut your mouths. We have an interrogation to do," Sasha said, reaching into his pocket, pulling out a Mauser C96 pistol.

Sasha cocked his pistol, and aimed it at Natasha, who widened her eyes in fear. "We were ordered to interrogate Natasha, but to interrogate with this handy pistol would be more effective," he said.

"Viktor, do not be a fool," Natasha said in desperation, shaking her head.

"Spare her," Viktor said, but Sasha shook his head.

The other guard pulled out his pistol, and he fired once at Natasha upon her thigh. She cried out in pain. Viktor struggled against his bondings, glaring at the unnamed agent. If his gaze could injure a man, that agent would have died. He felt conflicted. Was the death of his innocent sister a price he could handle for his sympathies to the Bolsheviks?

"Now, Viktor, we do not like to do this... but we will do so if necessary," Sasha said, keeping his pistol aimed at Natasha.

"Go to hell."

_Bang!_

Natasha received another shot to her leg, and she cried out in pain. She looked at her brother with watery eyes. Seeing his sister in such distress, Viktor felt his heart break. He then felt angry at the revolutionaries, who had left him at the palace as a sitting duck. If not for them, his sister would be unscathed. He felt betrayed by the very people he had sympathized with. No, he could not support them any longer.

"Fine, I- I will tell," Viktor whispered, his tone weak.

"Put down your gun, the traitor wants to speak," Sasha said.

"As you say, Sasha."

Sasha lowered his pistol. "Speak," he said.

"The mastermind... his name is Mikhail Vaganov. He said that he would go to Yekaterinburg, and he likely hosts meetings in the Ipatiev House."

"What times?"

"Sometime in the evening. Ten past noon, I believe."

"Interesting. Do you have anything more to say?"

"Yes."

Viktor, in the hope of saving his sister, continued to speak.

* * *

Olga and Tatiana sat together in the study room, looking over reports yet again. Olga seemed to be undisturbed by the grim news of strikes in Siberia, but Tatiana kept a somber expression on her face. The fact that her sister had ordered the interrogation of an innocent woman made her feel uneasy. Although Olga had seemed hesitant at first, she wrote the order. Tatiana knew that she was no longer the head of the Romanov sisters. They would all have to follow their eldest sister now. Tatiana could only hope that her sister would not be corrupted with power, as her recent actions were concerning.

Tatiana set down her papers. "Olya?"

"Yes, Tatya?" Olga said, looking at her sister.

"Are you sure that you have done the right thing with the interrogations?"

"I may not feel completely fine with what I have done, but I must do what is necessary, sister," Olga said, sighing.

"We have talked about this before, politics actually has nothing to do with morals," she added.

"To be honest, I dislike that idea. Even a book can only teach you so much, but not everything about being a good ruler. I would prefer it if you give a lenient sentence to Viktor."

"I understand that we must fight evil with not hate, but kindness. Yet if I am excessively kind, the people will take advantage of my reign. Yes, I may have to be cruel sometimes, but I also need to be reasonable and kind. Having the loyalty and obedience from the people is important."

"At least spare the traitor's sister?"

After a moment, Olga nodded. "Of course, I am no brute like those Bolshevik beasts. She will be spared, and she will resume her normal life after I personally pay for her treatments... yet I feel uncomfortable with the methods used to get the information."

"Will you lecture the agents who interrogated the traitor?"

Olga stared at the reports, and she sighed. "Yes, they will receive a reprimand. They _tortured_ , they should have _interrogated_."

Tatiana felt relieved. "I want you to promise us one thing, Olya."

"Yes, Tatya... anything."

"Promise us... your family... that you will never betray us."

"I would never do so. I promise you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From my research, ten milliamps is the minimum electric current to cause pain for human beings. The fatal electric current is between 100 to 200 milliamps. I do not know exactly how Olga's temper would affect her decision in her decision of interrogation, so I went with her grief and anger from the murders of her parents as the deciding factor. Tatiana was the more religious and pious one within OTMA, so I believe that she would be wary of the harsher actions by her elder sister.
> 
> Again, if anything in the alternate history seems wonky, tell me! I enjoy improving my work.


	16. To Yekaterinburg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Okhrana agents make their way to the exact place specified by the interrogated officer. The final confrontation is yet to come...

_June 20, 1912_

The Okhrana Headquarters was filled with commotion. The first day of Operation Judgement had come, so it was time for Chief Agent Sasha to hold a conference. After enjoying coffee and a light lunch in the dining hall, he made his way to the upper floor. He arrived at the conference room where ten other agents sat, discussing various parts of the plan to raid the Ipatiev House. Sasha took his seat at the north side of the table. After placing down his briefcase, he opened it. He looked with expectation at the agents he had selected for the mission, and he hoped that the plan would succeed. To eliminate the self-proclaimed leader of the Bolshevik movement would be a great achievement for the Empress.

"Silence, my fellow imperial agents. The time has come! Thanks to the successful interrogations of Viktor, Empress Olga requested for us to eliminate the Bolshevik threat. Now, I will pass out the plans for Operation Yekaterina: the elimination of the prominent revolutionary Mikhal Vaganov," Agent Sasha said.

Sasha passed a stack of papers to his side, and the agents passed them around. The interior of the room was silent. With their figures dimly lit by the electric lights, the agents muttered and whispered to each other about the plans. An hour passed. Sasha then spoke again.

"Do not doubt the plans, they have been concocted by me and the other leaders and strategists in the Okhrana. We have gone over them over a dozen times, so the chance of failure would be virtually zero."

"So... we will surround the Ipatiev House with support from the local military near Yekaterinburg?" one agent asked.

"Exactly... that is what we will do in roughly two days. In our commoner disguises, we will board Railway Seventeen to Yekaterinburg. Once there, we will inform the local garrison at night to aid us in the mission."

"Acknowledged."

"God Save Our Tsarina!" the eleven agents uttered, crossing themselves.

* * *

_Mauve Room, Alexander Palace_

As Empress of Russia, Olga soon realized that she could not afford to spend as much time with her three sisters. The realization gave the young adolescent Tsarina sorrow, and the extensive tasks that she dealt with everyday only added to her moodiness. No longer sheltered by her parents from the harsh realities of ruling an empire and the wrongs of the world, the young ruler knew one thing. She _was_ ignorant from her sheltered life, an unsettling resemblance to her father. Her father, the late Tsar, had been partly ignorant about the troubles emerging in an ever changing Russia. He had met crisis with little action, and he had paid dearly.

" _As much as I love my departed Papa.. as much as I miss him... I do not wish to end up like him. I can only hope that Operation Yekaterina will succeed in ridding the Bolshevik threat of one of its leaders..._ "

Olga, deep in thought, paced throughout the Mauve Room. She picked up a familiar photograph taken less than a year before. Frozen in time, four girls in swimsuits smiled at the camera. She remembered the day before the raid on the Livadia Palace. It was the last glimpse of her carefree and innocent past. Despite only the passing of about a month, it was still difficult for Olga to believe that she had once been this compassionate young lady. She had ordered the interrogation of a man and his innocent sister, after all. It had been only a week since the interrogation, yet Olga remained uncomfortable with her deed.

The new empress had looked into the profiles of Natasha and Viktor. Viktor was a traitor, but he would receive a lenient exile compared to an execution. His sister, however, committed no wrong against the Russian monarchy. She had in fact been a supporter of the Romanov regime. Olga could only ask herself one question. How far would she go?

Olga held up her hands and examined them. They were without any physical blemish, with their skin smooth and fair. At the same time, they were the same hands that wrote the order to interrogate an innocent woman. Olga could only wonder what her late parents would have thought. Perhaps her father would be appalled at her ordered interrogation of a loyal supporter. Her mother would have felt the same. Despite the unjust nature of the interrogation, the young Empress planned to talk with the agents responsible. Instead of following her decree, they had maimed Natasha with shots to the leg. Their determination to execute their task may have been admirable, but they had still disobeyed her specific orders. The thought infuriated her. Thankfully, the news of the interrogations had been hidden, so public backlash was not a problem.

" _Agent Sasha is a loyal, intelligent, and practical man, ideal for getting things done... he will be a valuable henchman in later years if he could strictly follow orders,_ " she thought.

A strawberry-blonde haired girl stepped into the Mauve Room, and she wore a worried expression. Olga noticed that her youngest sister had entered the room, perhaps to ask her why she was moodier than usual. She faked a smile although she did not know what to say to Anastasia.

"Olya, I did not ask you something earlier. May I ask it now?"

"Yes?"

"Why are you so gloomy? We never did anything bad to you, except for my prank with the fake dog droppings under your bed."

"Wait, you did _that_? I thought it was Mashka, since she seemed pretty bored," Olga said, widening her eyes in surprise.

"Uh... maybe?" Anastasia said, stepping back in fear.

"Do not be afraid, Nastya. I promised that I would not hurt you because of a prank."

Anastasia sighed in relief. "At least I can sleep well tonight."

"But, I need to tell you something as well," Olga said.

Anastasia kept silent, listening to her older sister talk. "I have many things to do as Tsarina. I have to make sure that everyone in Russia behaves. In a way, I am like the adoptive mother of Russia. Please do not dislike me for my recent temper, I just have a heavy burden to bear, and it gives me much stress."

"I now know how hard it must be to hold the throne. If you want me to stop doing those pranks-"

Olga shook her head. "No! I enjoy them, even if they do cause a mess."

"You do?"

"Certainly, Nastya. You bring light to my family, even in these dark times."

Tatiana and Maria entered the Mauve Room. They stopped their pace as soon as they spotted their youngest sister, who sat on a white-painted chair. Beside Anastasia, Olga sat on a pink cushioned chair adjacent to the bookshelf. Both the middle sisters took their seats in the nearby chairs, and they noticed that a chess board rested on a nearby table.

"Olya, are you free of any duties at the moment?" Tatiana asked, getting up from her chair to take the chessboard.

Olga shrugged. "Maybe..."

"That is good enough. How about a game of chess? It has been some time since we have done something fun together!"

Olga opened her mouth to say no, yet the desperate looks given by her sisters left her with no option to refuse. "Fine."

"Yay, perhaps I can finally beat Olya at chess!"

"I doubt so. I have beaten you five times," Olga said, grinning.

"How about this time?" Anastasia said, challenging her oldest sister with a smug expression.

"Very well, I accept your challenge."

To the surprise of the eldest Romanov daughter, she lost. Perhaps she had a distracted mind that time. As Anastasia got off her chair and did a victory dance, Tatiana and Maria looked in awe at the chess board.

Maria gasped. "Nastya, you beat Olya, the best of us at chess!"

"But she took a little more pieces than I did from hers. She played good until the last part of the game," Anastasia replied.

"I was... distracted," Olga said.

"By what?" Tatiana asked, feeling concerned for her closest sister.

"Many things, Tatya..."

* * *

_June 22, 1912_

It was evening time. The Yekaterinburg Train Station, a grand marvel of the Russian Revival architecture, was filled with activity. Passengers boarded and unboarded their trains. One of them, a black-painted one, chugged slower and slower as it entered the train station. Within moments, the steam engine ground to a halt, and its pistons exhaled a large puff of steam. Another few moments passed as the train staff opened the passenger car doors and supervised the unboarding passengers. Among the moving flock of people, eleven men in civilian attire stepped out of the train together.

"Mister Sasha, we are an hour behind schedule," a man beside a tall blonde man whispered.

Agent Sasha, dressed in a plain gray coat and brown pants, shook his head. " _Nyet_ , Mister Svetsky. The hotel will still allow us in, the actual deadline to claim our rooms is tomorrow at noon."

The dark-haired man, tall and flat-jawed, sighed in relief. Agent Sasha and the rest of his men approached the exit guarded by officers and security guards. One of them smoked a cigar, his face etched with weariness and boredom. With drooping eyelids oer brown eyes, he looked at the eleven approaching undercover agents.

"Identification?"

Agent Sasha felt annoyed with the seemingly incompetent guard in front of him, and he took out his Okhrana identification card. The sleepy guard yawned, but he stopped mid-yawn and widened his eyes in surprise.

"C-Carry on... Mister Sasha" the guard stammered.

"I expect better performance, Mister Yuri," Agent Sasha whispered, and the guard nodded and straightened his posture.

The rest of the men displayed their identifications, and the guards kept their expressions calm to respect the cover of the Okhrana agents. The eleven men stepped out of the station. They were met with a cold inland breeze, and they could see their breath fog. It was a usual Siberian night: dry, cold, and gloomy. Around them, countless travelers walked to their rides or waited on the plaza floor aside their luggage. The agents continued to the curb, where three cars idled in waiting.

"Hello, is this taxi fifty-three?" Sasha asked one driver.

The brunette woman in the driver seat turned her head. She looked around with her brown eyes and nodded.

"Get in," she said.

The two other drivers within the other two cars behind her accepted the ten other agents, and Sasha sat beside the woman. He glanced back at the station receding into the distance as the taxi drove away.

"You may call me Tasha, if we ever meet again."

"And you may call me Sasha," the agent said, smiling.

"Common name. It seems that most men I meet in my job have that name, or they know another Sasha," the woman said.

Sasha chuckled. After two days of continuous travel, he wanted to socialize. Outside of his job, he did not have much of a personal life. Except for visiting his local gentlemen club and listening to Beethoven, he did not do anything else for leisure. Now, he yearned for something. He realized that he felt so isolated no matter how many of his fellow agents he spoke with. He was thirty-two, and still alone. Something about Tasha captured his attention. She was quite comfortable with talking to strangers, and Sasha knew that she was an easygoing, trusting, and friendly person. The old adage seemed to make sense now: opposites attract.

Both Sasha and Tasha spoke throughout the ride, and they tried to hide their disappointment once the taxi reached its destination. The Svetlana Hotel, another tall building build in the Russian Revival style, towered six stories overhead. Sasha, attempting to hide his feelings of sadness, offered a generous two-hundred percent tip. Tasha gasped, and she thanked her customer. As a taxi driver, she was not paid very much.

" _Spasibo_ , Mister Sasha!" she said, rubbing her eyes.

"Not a problem. Have a good night, Miss Tasha."

The other two taxis unloaded their passengers. Waving goodbye at Tasha, Agent Sasha watched the first taxi drive away. He had a feeling that he would see her again.

"We should find our rooms now. It is best to not waste time. Tomorrow will be a... busy day," Sasha said.

The undercover agents entered the hotel, believing that their target would be captured later. Soon, they would help their Tsarina avenge her late parents. The victims of the 1912 Livadia Raid would be avenged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The confrontation between Agent Sasha and Mikhail Vaganov will take place in the next chapter.


	17. Demise of the Red Bear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikhail Vaganov is captured and brought to a swift justice. However, his son Gleb Vaganov and Yakov Yurovsky escape.

_Svetlana Hotel, Yekaterinburg_

"Gentlemen, it is time for Operation Yekaterina to proceed. The first stage will be to contact the local garrison. After that stage, we will wait until five o'clock in the evening. During that time, we will ensure that all nearby roads beside the building are on lockdown. That will ensure that any resistance will lack any outside support once we raid the building. Finally, we will surround the Ipatiev House and make demands for the surrender of Mikhail Vaganov," Agent Sasha spoke, looking at each of the ten agents in front of him.

"For our Empress!" one agent said.

"Yes, long live her Imperial Majesty. We shall bring justice to the murderers of our late Tsar and Tsarina," Sasha spoke.

Immediately, the agents began to put on their civilian disguises. After doing so, they opened their suitcases to take their Colt and Mauser pistols, glinting a dark luster in the sunlight. The black-painted paint on the C96 Mauser pistols fit well as the color of death. For two lives, another would be taken. Vengeance, not only justice, was at hand. Ever since seeing the four Grand Duchesses mourn the loss of their loving parents, Agent Sasha vowed to avenge the deaths of Nicholas and Alexandra. He had also lost a cousin in a bombing done by anarchist revolutionaries, so he understood the pain that OTMA felt.

A few minutes passed while the agents prepared to leave the hotel. The agents each concealed their firearms into the deep pockets of their pants. Each of them gave a serious look at Agent Sasha. The gravity of the situation was apparent to them. The fate of the Russian Empire hung in the balance. If successful, all of the agents would be promoted, the Romanovs would be safe, and the Bolsheviks would be crippled without their leader on Russian soil. If they failed, they would be killed by the Bolsheviks and endanger the Romanov dynasty. The dynasty could not afford another failure in its security. The Livadia Raid was proof of that.

The eleven agents exited the room, dressed in their civilian disguises. After reaching the waiting room, Agent Sasha and the ten other suited men took their seats on the couches. They would wait for the taxis to arrive. With a sigh, Agent Sasha looked through the window, seeing the passerby. The romantic music from the gramophone across the room did not help his mood. Of all things he expected to experience during the mission, he never expected to have feelings for a mere taxi driver. Despite his fondness for that woman, he could not allow her to distract him. What if she were an undercover revolutionary?

Nevertheless, the recorded voice of a female singer continued to sing. "Shine, shine my star... Hello star of love! You are my one cherished..."

"Nice tune, right Mister Sasha?" a dark-haired agent beside him spoke.

" _Da_ , it makes me think of many things."

"I enjoy this song, it makes me think of my woman back in Moscow. I promised her that I would return during this winter."

"I hope that you will, Andrei," Sasha said.

About half an hour passed, and the agents heard the honking of car horns outside. Sasha motioned for his fellow agents to follow him, and they all get up from their seats to follow him. Sasha stepped onto the stone sidewalk, and he smiled. There, under the early Siberian sun, was taxi-fifty-three. It was not the new paint job on the smooth and shiny exterior of the automobile, but the driver in it. She was the taxi driver that had sent Sasha to his hotel during the previous day.

"Good morning, Mister Sasha. It is good to be of assistance to you and your peers again," Tasha said, smiling.

"And a good morning to you, Miss Tasha. To the local garrison, please," Sasha said, holding up his Okhrana identification badge.

"You are Okhrana? Yekaterinburg taxi service offers a discount for all officials and agents. That will be one ruble instead of five per passenger."

"That is good to know."

Sasha looked at some of his fellow agents. "Get in, we have business to do."

All of the agents sat in the automobiles, paying the taxi drivers with generous tips again. Despite the discount, the agents knew that taxi drivers were not paid as much as most middle-class workers. Tasha and her fellow drivers began to drive their vehicles to the local garrison. Time could not be wasted.

The taxi passed a small clearing in the middle of the city. A short distance from the road, the waters of the Iset River glinted under the morning sun, flowing with a gentle current. The three taxis passed by the Ipatiev House. From the outside, its white-painted exterior showed no signs of inhabitants. Sasha squinted at the house, and he glimpsed a face behind the window. The man behind the window closed the curtains soon after being spotted.

The three taxis slowed, and they came to a halt in front of the local garrison. To the relief of the agents, there were very few pedestrians in sight. Tasha, looking into the eyes of the elite agent, gave a smile.

"Perhaps this is a goodbye for now. I will pray for you."

" _Spasibo,_ Miss Tasha."

"Whatever mission you are leading, I hope that it will succeed, Mister Sasha," Tasha said in a quiet tone.

"Your support for us is greatly appreciated," Sasha said, placing on his hat and taking his briefcase.

Tasha reached into her pocket and pulled out a small wooden cross before placing it in the hands of the blonde man. Her pink, tender lips curled into a smile, and her hazel brown eyes shone in the sunlight. Sasha smiled back at his kind and humble taxi driver. He took the crucifix without a word.

" _Dosvidaniya,_ Miss Tasha," Sasha said, and Tasha drove her taxi away.

Sasha watched the vehicle speed away, leaving puffs of dust behind. He glanced back at his agents, who gestured to the garrison building: a drab gray and brown building. Towering over three stories above him, the building had the appearance of a mammoth monolith, yet its Russian Revival architecture gave it a certain beauty. Ornate window-sills and columns decorated the facade. Andrei and Sasha led the rest of the agents closer to the entrance, where a guard stood at attention.

"Halt! No civilians allowed-"

"We are with the Okhrana, _sir_ ," Sasha said, taking out his Okhrana identification.

The guard squinted at the card, and he grunted in response. He turned backwards and knocked on the door. The door opened. Another guard stepped out with a tall, fit man dressed in a gray suit. Upon his attire, a brass badge gleamed in the sunlight.

The man stared down at Agent Sasha with his gray eyes. "I am Nolan Lensky, commander of the Yekaterinburg Garrison. We have received a telegram from St. Petersburg telling us to expect a visit by Okhrana agents. I presume that all eleven of you are the visitors?"

"Correct, Mister Lensky. I am Sasha Krenin, Director of the Petersburg Okhrana Division."

"Ah, so you are the infamous Agent Sasha within the Okhrana, the formidable right hand man of our Empress."

"Yes. Now, we have a request, but we must go inside first."

"Acknowledged."

* * *

The Okhrana agents talked with the staff of the Yekaterinburg Garrison, sharing their reports with Lensky. The meeting went without any difficulties. As part of the agreement, Lensky would send fifty soldiers to surround the Ipatiev House while the Okhrana agents raided the house. If the agents perished, the soldiers would storm the building. Even the town roads would be closed with soldier groups starting an hour before the raid. Satisfied with the plan, Lensky approved it.

"Excellent. We will dine earlier at five before leaving ten minutes before six past noon," Lensky said, making a weak smile at the numerous garrison staff and agents sitting before him.

"I believe that we will finally be able to capture Red Bear, otherwise known as Mikhail Vaganov. There is virtually no chance for his escape."

"What of his son? What if he escapes?"

"We do not know about his exact whereabouts, but we suspect that he is somewhere in Yekaterinburg. If he does attempt to escape, he will be caught by the guards. Our plan is foolproof."

All of the soldiers and agents nodded. Andrei, who felt relaxed, sipped from his cup of warm tea. He wondered if the mission would completely succeed in disrupting the Bolshevik movement. There were many factors to consider, but one of them was the son of Mikhail Vaganov. Although Gleb Vaganov lacked any criminal record, he remained a potential threat to the monarchy. There was little doubt that his father had raised him in revolutionary teachings. The thought of Gleb surviving disturbed the agent. However, he knew better than to doubt his superiors. He would do his duty for the Russian Empire and his Empress without fail.

As evening approached, the agents and a hundred soldiers left the garrison. The first fifty would block the roads around the Ipatiev House. The other fifty would surround the Ipatiev House. All the pieces were coming into place.

"I am eager to see Red Bear writhing in agony," one soldier remarked.

"Yes, the little coward, hiding in a dirty little house!" another soldier said in a mocking tone.

Andrei laughed along with the soldiers. Even the well-trained and disciplined agent could not wait much longer until the mission truly began. He did not wait long, as the automobiles reached the Ipatiev House within minutes. At once, Andrei and his fellow agents stepped out of their automobiles, taking out their pistols. The soldiers also exited their vehicles, holding their rifles. A truck arrived not long afterward, and three soldiers stepped out of it before unloading a Maxim machine gun. Andrei quickly hid behind the husk of the vehicle, gripping his pistol tight in his hands. The soldiers took their positions around the building. The agents all stood at ready behind their parked vehicles. Only Agent Sasha stepped in front of the line of soldiers and vehicles.

"Mikhail Vaganov, you are surrounded! There is no use in escaping! Come out without resistance, and we may spare your accomplices... you have three minutes," Sasha yelled.

Instead of hering a reply, Sasha heard nothing. He cautiously stepped back towards the vehicles, and he took cover behind one of them. The sound of footsteps could be heard from within the Ipatiev House. The front windows suddenly opened to reveal men and women with rifles. Within a split second, multiple loud bangs could be heard. A barrage of bullets rained onto the soldiers. Some of them slumped to the ground, dead.

"Take cover!" Lensky said, running to a safe area behind an automobile.

Andrei ran to a spot beside Sasha. A bullet whizzed only centimeters above his head, slamming into the ground with a puff of dust. More guns could be heard firing. The presence of resistance within the Ipatiev House was no surprise, but the amount of volunteer defenders was greater than expected. Mikhail was not a fool. He was the cunning mastermind behind the Livadia Raid and numerous attacks on garrisons around Russia. He was the Red Bear, the co-leader of the underground Bolshevik movement.

Sasha looked at the Maxim machine gun, where the three soldiers lay dead. The resistance had enough sense to take them out, as the machine gun would overpower their paltry rifles and pistols.

"Are you planning to use that?" Andrei asked Sasha while the soldiers around them shot at the windows of the Ipatiev House.

"Of course! Tell some soldiers to join us."

Andrei approached the two soldiers that he had laughed with earlier. They both had the same eye and hair coloring: brown. Perhaps they were twin brothers. The agent asked them to follow him.

"Why?" one of them said.

"Because we must use the Maxim machine gun! We must overpower the resistance!" Andrei said.

"Agreed, we will cover you," the other twin spoke, as another bullet whizzed over his head.

The soldiers ran alongside Andrei, taking cover behind the now damaged vehicles. Bullets missed them by less than three centimeters, slamming into the parked cars. Another few soldiers fell. Glancing around at the bodies of soldiers, Andrei guessed that ten had died. They would soon have to retreat within a few minutes at that rate of casualty. Sasha reached the gun first, and he gripped the handles. He took aim at a window while the two soldiers fired back at two defenders within the windows. Their two well-placed shots ensured that both defenders would never fire back again.

" _Dosvidanya_ , you filthy bastards!" Sasha said, pulling the trigger.

A deadly stream of bullets sped out of the muzzle, peppering the Ipatiev House with numerous bullet holes as Sasha swung the Maxim in an arc. The defenders attempted to fire back, but they were cut down by the sheer firepower of the Maxim machine gun. Blood splattered on the windowsills, and bodies collapsed behind the windows. Sasha continued to fire the weapon until the enemy fire ceased. The soldiers and agents cheered.

"Forward, men! Bring down the door!" Lensky said, pointing at the building.

One soldier threw a grenade towards the door. In three seconds, the door was reduced to splinters by an loud explosion. The soldiers readied their bayonets and rifles and rushed into the Ipatiev House. After some time, the soldiers emerged with a tall dark-haired man and a few other plainly dressed men in restraints. The threw his bruised body onto the ground, and the man coughed.

"Ah, we meet for the first time, and perhaps the last," Sasha said.

"You may have captured me and my accomplices, but the Bolshevik movement will continue," Mikhail grunted.

"Where is your son? Where is that pig Yurovsky?"

"Far away from this house, Mister Sasha. You will not find them anywhere in this city."

"Then we will have to resort to a trial," Andrei growled.

"Take him away. Our mission is done for now," Sasha ordered the soldiers, who continued to lead Mikhail toward the cars. He would be imprisoned for three weeks and in trial for another before his execution.

* * *

_July 23, 1912_

Olga watched from the balcony of the Winter Palace as eight men were marched to the center of the Alexander Square. A massive crowd, blocked by royal guards and soldiers, watched the scene unfold. The few thousand loyal citizens within St. Petersburg had gathered in the square in anticipation for this moment. Some of the citizens chanted the anthem, and some kept silent. The shouts and the singing only grew louder as the eight men were led to the Alexander I monument. Where a triumph had been commemorated long ago, another victory would occur. Justice would finally come for four orphaned young women, a grieving Dowager Empress, and the millions of loyal monarchists in Russia.

"Death to the traitors!"

"Long live Imperial Russia!"

The Empress lowered her arms, and the crowd went silent after a few moments. She hesitated for a moment. The crowd held their breaths, wondering what had happened. She soon found the resolve to do what had to be done. She pointed at the eight men far below her. Upon sight of the gesture, the eight soldiers standing in front of the Red Bear and his accomplices lifted their pistols and took aim at their hearts. Behind them, Lensky shouted the orders.

"Fire!"

All of the soldiers fired their pistols, firing shots that would change Russia forever. Mikhail collapsed onto the ground, oozing blood from his mutilated chest. He laughed a gurgled laugh, coughing blood from his mouth. He did not laugh for long, as another round of gunfire silenced him and his men. As soon as the bodies hit the ground, the crowd screamed and cheered.

Not far from the scene, a photographer took a picture with a Kodak Brownie camera. In a flash, the moment was forever immortalized in shades of black and white. A young Empress had accomplished a great task: capture and eliminate the hated Red Bear. The world would be stunned by the execution for over a week afterwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like the Ipatiev House is a place of triumph rather than tragedy for the Romanovs. When you change a few factors in history, it truly is astonishing how much things can change! To see how events change and affect society is very interesting. This is why I enjoy alternate history!
> 
> Gleb now has a motive to attack the royal family, which sets the stage for his future role in this alternate timeline. I'll leave it to you all to guess what he will do!


	18. The Austro-Serbian Crisis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As many know, WWI started from a crisis from the assassination of the Austrian Grand Duke. But in this timeline, it does not happen in 1914. Olga, through her intellect, has averted the end of Imperial Russia... for now. Oh, and enter Dmitri Pavlovich!

_June 29, 1914_

Olga resided in the Study Room for two hours. She read a few reports, seeing only the usual few small protests by workers and laborers. Despite some civil unrest and the unemployment of child factory workers, the economy of Russia still continued to boom. The protests and riots had lessened by a third. Many of the working-class Russians had noticed that they were given attention by their new Empress. Mothers and fathers would be spared from the sight of their children crippled, injured, or killed by factory accidents. The new law she had signed had been turned into domestic policy by the Department of Work. To no surprise, the approval rating for the monarchy had increased. Otherwise, the twenty-ninth of June was a casual day.

Before the young Empress could clean her desk, there was a knock on the door. She placed down the reports, and she told the visitor to enter. The door opened to reveal her ambassador to Serbia. Alexander Izvolsky wore a frown, looking down at the floor. He held a newspaper in his hands. Olga raised an eyebrow. What had happened to greatly interest the Russian diplomats?

"Your Imperial Majesty, there has been an incident concerning our ally, Serbia," the ambassador spoke, his brown eyes wide with concern.

"What is it? What happened?" Olga asked, feeling fear curl within her.

"A few Serbians have assassinated the Archduke of Serbia, Franz Ferdinand. As Austro-Hungary is allied with Germany, that incident may result in conflicts with our ally. That may drag us into a long and brutal war that we may not be prepared for."

"What can we do?"

"It is up to you, Your Imperial Majesty."

"Let me see the newspaper, Mister Izvolsky."

Alexander, with a shaky hand, handed Olga the newspaper. As she read the newspaper, she shook her head with a sigh. She looked up at the ambassador.

"Compose a letter to the Serbian Embassy stating that I will consider its situation."

"As you wish," Alexander said, and he left the room.

Although Olga was no longer in adolescence, she felt unprepared for such a crisis. At around nineteen years of age, she had to defuse tensions between two foreign countries. She had been to Germany before to visit her cousins. The trip had given her a good impression of Germany and its ruling royal family. Through her late mother, they were blood related. However, Olga considered herself to be full Russian, denying her part-German heritage. She would help defuse the situation not from family ties, but from her aversion to war.

She had witnessed the effects of the Russo-Japanese war on her late father. He would be away from his children for most of the day. Whenever she had asked her father about who was winning and who died, he would not answer. For the first time, Olga knew that the world was not as good as expected. Now she knew that war was not preferable. All it seemed to bring was death and destruction. She glanced at a blank sheet of paper in the typewriter on her desk. Now, she would have to write a letter to the Serbian government. What would she say? She had not written a letter to a foreign nation before.

She placed her fingers on the buttons, but she could not decide on what to write. A quick glance at the newspaper revealed a fact. The Serbian government had denied any wrongdoing, and it had denied responsibility for the assassination. Somehow, the young Empress needed to persuade the Serbian government to uphold responsibility. The question was, how would she achieve that? She thought back to her study sessions with her departed father.

_"Papa, can you tell me about Grandpapa?" Olga asked, looking up at her father with her cornflower blue eyes._

_Nicholas gave a weak smile. "Alexander the Third, my father, was known as the Peacemaker. He kept Russia at peace with Japan and Germany. He also allied us with France. I remember him as a kind yet stern father, a tall man of great strength. Oftentimes, he would show off his strength by bending the spoons, but that displeased my mother a lot!" he said with a chuckle._

_"I wish I could have met him, he sounds like a good man."_

_"Yes, he would have spoiled you very much. I miss him, along with my brother, George. You would have enjoyed his company as well, as he was the clown of our family..."_

_"Like Nastya!" Olga blurted._

_"True, George would tell jokes and pull small pranks on us to keep us happy, very much like my little Anastasia. I even have a small collection of notes with his best jokes written on them. But, let us return to the subject of my father."_

_Olga sat beside her father, looking at her father with her blue eyes burning with curiosity. Nicholas laughed, and patted his eldest daughter on the head. "Alright, let me talk about your grandfather on my side of our family... Alexander the Third was not only a peacemaker, but he was a strong and strict ruler for Russia. After your great grandfather Alexander the Second was assassinated by those vile anarchists, my father realized that if he ruled loosely like his father did, he would be taken advantage of by the people."_

_"Go on, Papa. Go on."_

_Nicholas took a deep breath. "I learned from Alexander the Second that sometimes we must use fear to make people do what we want. Pitting down the rebellions and having more security helped keep respect and fear of us. However, I do not enjoy making threats to people..."_

Olga felt conflicted while she thought about the option. Simply asking the Serbian government to lead an investigation would not help, as the Serbian officials were far too stubborn. Years of past troubles with Austria did not help ease their stubborness. Still, she had to take action. Otherwise, the horrifying possibility of a world war would become reality. How would her beloved Russia be affected? She preferred not to know.

If she threatened Serbia, she would sour diplomatic relations with a fellow Slavic country. If she only asked Serbia to reconsider its aloof attitude to the angered Austrians, the world would descend into chaos and carnage. If Serbia was attacked, Russia would have to aid it. On the other side, Germany would have to aid Austria. Other nations would be pulled into such a conflict. No, she could not allow hundreds of thousands of her people to die fighting the German dragon. No, she could not afford to give the Bolsheviks an opportunity. An unwanted war would only boost support for her enemies.

Olga stared at the blank sheet of paper, hoping that she could organize her jumbled thoughts. The spark of inspiration never came, and the young Tsarina soon dropped her pen in resignation, clattering on the hardwood surface. She decided that the letter could wait for a few hours. With a sigh, Olga stood up from her chair, stretching her sore arms. She knew that as Tsarina, she would have to face such dilemmas and handle high stress. Perhaps playing with her cousin, Grand Duke Dmitri Pavlovich, would help her relax. She made her way down the main hallway of the right palace wing, finding the reserved bedroom near the right side palace entrance. She saw her cousin often over the previous two years, as her relatives had suggested that they both live together for familial reasons. She reached the entrance to the bedroom where her cousin resided. She knocked on the door, and she waited for a few minutes.

The door creaked open, revealing the young, dashing Grand Duke dressed in his dark blue royal guard uniform, which had a white sash. A polished saber, for ceremonial purposes, hung on his leather belt. Olga looked up at his face, the features dulled by a weary expression. His light brown hair was well combed, and his oval shaped face was dulled by a bored expression. His light blue eyes, with their lids drooping, stared down at her.

"Cousin Olya, if you are to rouse me from my rest, you should have a suitable reason to do so," Dmitri muttered.

"Yes, I need a certain hiatus from the assassination incident."

The Grand Duke shrugged. "Then what do you want me to do? Discuss politics that I have poor knowledge about? That would not go very well for us."

Olga clenched her jaw. "No, I am taking a lapse from my duties as Tsarina. The current state of affairs between Austro-Hungary and Serbia has overwhelmed me, and I only want to _relax_."

Dmitri smiled, and Olga wore a puzzled expression. "I thought you would never utter that word: _relax_. I am wondering why you are asking me if your sisters are not occupied-"

"They are studying English with Mister Gibbs in their classrooms. I suppose that only leaves you," Olga replied.

"I am so flattered to be the new Tsarina's playmate. Despite her unladylike temper, I find her company... enjoyable."

"In all honesty, I was never a lady," Olga commented.

"You may not be a lady, but I have always had a liking for certain kinds of women, those who are bold and bright."

The young Tsarina blushed, quickly turning her head away to hide her blush. "But-"

"Not in a romantic way! Well, not yet," Dmitri blurted, feeling embarrassed from his words.

"Not yet?!"

A brief moment of silence passed, and Dmitri could not help teasing the new Tsarina. "You look attractive with that blush, especially when you get angry."

Olga lifted a hand to her mouth, blushing even harder. The realization that her older cousin was toying with her feelings caused a certain heat to rise within her, and it was not from attraction. She groaned.

"Just shut up and go horse riding with me," she muttered, crossing her arms.

"As you wish, Your Imperial Majesty," Dmitri said with a mock bow.

A few minutes later, Olga and Dmitri Pavlovich arrived at the stables. They saddled their horses before sitting on them. With a light kick on the spurs, the two Romanov cousins rode into the sunlit back gardens behind the Alexander Palace. They rode for sometime before reaching a small plaza with a paved stone floor. In the center of the plaza, a small white tombstone stood. Both Olga and Dmitri stopped their horses, getting off to look at the tombstone. Dmitri kept silent as he watched his cousin pay respects to her departed brother.

"I recall having a vision with my departed brother in it. It was about two years ago on the Standart with Papa and Mama. We were going to Livadia, it was a happier time before everything changed," Olga said, running her fingers over the smooth stone surface.

"Those damned Bolsheviks cause plenty of trouble, but if we change our ways, they will lose support."

"Exactly. That will be the strategy of my reign, defeat my enemies through giving welfare. I will accomplish what my ancestors never achieved: ending the threat of revolution once and for all. I will do that for my family... and my people."

"I admire your noble intentions, but you must realize that such reforms will take some time to be fully effective. Passing laws alone is not enough, Cousin Olya. You must make sure that the corrupt in the government are removed. Only then will our Empire run well like a well-oiled machine."

"Absolutely, I understand your point."

Dmitri knelt down in front of the small white marble headstone alongside Olga. He caught a glimpse of her face, which had a pitiful expression. She was taking time to remember a life that she had never met on earth. As someone who had lost his mother at his birth, the Grand Duke understood. He had always yearned to know his mother, the Grand Duchess Alexandra Georgievna. He had noticed his father neglecting him and his sister even years after the death of his mother. At a young age, he only had a lacking space in his life where he expected loving parents. He was first raised by his father sometime after the death of his wife. that lasted until he married a commoner. After the banishment of his father, Dmitri and his sister Maria were raised by the cold Grand Duchess Elizaveta and the stern Grand Duke Sergei.

The young Grand Duke felt slightly jealous of his cousin Olga. Despite losing her parents at only the age of seventeen, she had at least experienced a mostly happy childhood with her true parents. Under the thin cover of his jealousy, he had a longing for love. The thought of marrying his first removed cousin did not have any appeal, but he knew that he would have to enter an arranged marriage with her later. Dmitri did not know what to feel about the issue. With Nicholas the Second gone, he had been placed as a major candidate for Tsar.

"Baby?" Dmitri read from the headstone.

"Yes, we all called Alexei that. He will be forever young, as they say. And my Papa will be forever forty-four... I miss him very much," Olga said.

"My sister is still married to that Swedish prince, William, I recall. I miss her."

"We have a lot in common, Mitya. We miss someone close to us. We both lost our parents, yet we both seem to stubbornly press on with wit and will. It is almost as if we were meant to be close, not minding the possibility that I may have to erm- marry you."

"It would not be for love, but for the current circumstances. As hesitant I may be, I know that I must do what I must, if Russia is to become great once again," Dmitri said, standing up.

"I can say the same," Olga said, standing up after placing the flowers in front of the headstone.

They remained silent for a moment.

"Now, how about a different subject?" Dmitri asked.

"My letter to the Serbians?" Olga replied.

"Hmm... I would say that getting involved in a war would be out of the question, but to prevent it... that would greatly lift your image to the world, not only your people. Imagine preventing a world war between the allies of Serbia and the allies of Austro-Hungary, and receiving the Nobel Peace Prize."

"I am doing this for my family and my homeland, not for a medal."

"Whatever the purpose, I suggest that you push for peace between the Serbians and Austrians. Such a war would have a price too great for us."

"Then I will do it."

* * *

Olga found herself back in her Study Room, seated at the desk. She began to compose a letter to the Serbians while her cousin sat across from her, drinking from a glass of water. Placing her pen on the paper, she hesitated.

"Do not overthink, dear cousin. I believe you can avert this crisis," Dmitri said.

" _Spasibo_ , Mitya," Olga said, and she thought of what to write.

Finally, the words emerged from her pen, finding home on the blank paper.

_The Russian Empress has considered your situation, and has decided that a war between Austro-Hungary and Serbia will only lead to devastation for both your nation and other Slavic nations. As the guardian of all Slavic peoples, she has determined that appeasing Austro-Hungary is the only suitable option. Avoiding such a war will save countless Slavic lives and keep the much cherished peace in Europe. To let go of grudges is the way of a better future for not only Slavic nations, but others as well._

_The Empress encourages that Serbia agree to the last term of a joint Austro-Serbian inquiry into the assassination. Russia is prepared to cover any monetary reparations that Austria may request. In the event that no cooperation occurs, Russia will terminate her alliance..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Great War will happen in this series. Now that I think about it, that war may be called a different name in such an alternate timeline. The level of technology after the 1910s may also change how the war will be fought. The motives for such a war would also change because the politics are different in some nations because of Russia. I will also consider how this will affect Eastern nations such as China, Korea, and Japan.
> 
> Also, I will have so much fun writing the dynamics between Olga and Dmitri Pavlovich! Hopefully all of you will enjoy their clashes.
> 
> Serbia might agree to the deal... so stay tuned.


	19. Peace and Not So Quiet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To Olga's relief, both the Serbian and Austro-Hungarian governments cooperate. War is averted for now. In the palace, the polar opposites of Olga and Dmitri begin to clash...

_August 11, 1914_

Anastasia and Maria sat on a stone bench, surrounded by tall oak trees. Standing tall and still like servants at the ready, the trees provided shade for the Grand Duchesses and a familiar kitchen servant. The now adolescent kitchen boy, Dmitri Ivanov, rolled his eyes when he realized that the two younger Grand Duchesses were talking about him. He was actually standing behind a tree listening to them. Out of their sight, he cupped one hand on his ear to eavesdrop on them.

"His hazel brown eyes are so welcoming and warm that I could look into those eyes all day. In future years, I want a real man to be with me," Maria said.

Dmitri fake gagged. He was accustomed to the comments that Maria made about her crushes on palace guards, as the Grand Duchess Maria had reached adolescence. However, being the target of her affections was not a priority for him. In fact, it was on his mental list of things to avoid.

"He is only a boy, Mashka," Anastasia said.

Maria shook her head. "I did not mean what you thought I meant. I was talking about a soldier or a guard."

"You and your crushes, someday you will deal with the pain of birth and years of raising a child who does not always listen to you... I would rather live without those."

Dmitri was relieved. At least they were just friends. Romance was something that he would rather save until his later years. For now, he would continue to serve the four surviving daughters of the kind Tsar who took him in. Regardless of their status, Grand Duchess or Tsarina, he would always feel close to them. His friend Nastya may have been stubborn at times, but her willpower attracted Dmitri like a moth to a light. He often felt happy with her, feeling his heart warm every time he met her. Olga was the leader, stubborn and wise. Tatiana was the governess, reserved and stern like her late mother. Maria and Anastasia were the energetic two of OTMA, and they would be his closest friends. Anna Demidova, or Miss Demidova to Dmitri, had a motherly nature to him. She was like the mother he never knew.

The Little Pair resumed their conversation. Dmitri kept silent behind the tree, listening to every word.

"I believe that someday you will fall in love and forget all of that," Maria said.

Anastasia scoffed. "I doubt so. Even Mitya is just a good friend of mine."

Dmitri exhaled with carefulness as to not make a sound. He did not go unnoticed for long. A thin twig snapped under one of his shoes. Alerted by the noise, the Little Pair turned around to see Dmitri, who stood still. He was somewhat shocked by the loss of his cover.

Anastasia could feel her cheeks warming in slight embarrassment. "You were listening to us the whole time? Oh, I feel so..."

Dmitri shook his head. "Don't be, Anya. Even I feel that romance and crushes are not important now."

"Thank you... but at least you could have done better with the sneaking around."

"I know how to cook and organize things, but not much else. You expect an awful lot from a servant, Your Highness," Dmitri teased, grinning.

"I was just teasing you, Mitya. But I think that it is lunchtime now-"

"Mister Ivanov, Nastya, Mashka, all of you should have gone with another guard to be supervised. I was beginning to get worried, I searched throughout the palace and the back gardens for you three!" a familiar voice said.

Both of the younger Grand Duchesses and their friend noticed that Lady Nyuta, or Anna Demidova, had arrived with two palace guards beside her. Maria opened her mouth to explain, but she was speechless. Anna was right. They had forgotten to have a guard accompany them. Despite less unrest and revolutionary activity in Russia, a chance of risk still remained.

Maria finally thought of a reply, but she was interrupted. "But Miss Nyuta-"

"You must return to the palace, your eldest sister wants your presence," Anna said to the Little Pair.

"Yes, Miss Nyuta, we promise to have a guard with us when outside," Anastasia said.

Anna smiled. "Good. Also, there is good news."

Dmitri raised an eyebrow. "What good news?"

"I will tell you all once we reach the buffet room."

The royal handmaiden, the two younger Grand Duchesses, and their befriended kitchen servant made their way into the palace. They went down the main hall that stretched from the left wing to the right wing, approaching the dining room. Before, the spacious hallways of the palace felt strange and unfamiliar to the kitchen boy, but after four years, they felt like a new home for him. Within moments, they reached the buffet room. Dmitri began to wonder what news had arrived. Was it about the Austro-Hungarian Incident?

The two guards opened the doors, revealing the buffet room. A rectangular table stood in the middle of the decorated and furnished interior. Behind it, the kitchen boy noticed that the old painting of Alexander the Third was replaced with a painting of Catherine the Great. Raised in Orthodoxy before he was cast to the streets, Dmitri Ivanov wondered if this was a sign. Was a new age arriving for Russia? Olga had been ruler for a mere two years, but her mark had already been made. Olga and her cousin Dmitri Pavlovich sat together in front of the portrait. Tatiana sat in silence beside Olga, hands folded.

"Come, Nastya, Mashka. You are also welcome, Mister Ivanov," Olga said.

Anna took her seat beside Tatiana. The Little Pair and Dmitri Ivanov took their seats at the other side of the table.

"I know that all three of you are wondering why I called for you. Well, I will waste not a minute explaining why."

"You mean..."

Olga smiled. "Yes. The Serbians have decided to follow my advice in my letter. As I speak, a small delegation of Russian diplomats with the Austrians are doing the paperwork for the reparation payments. I was honestly surprised to find out that the Austrians did not request for much money for such a serious deed!"

"So... no war?" Dmitri asked, looking from Olga to Tatiana.

Tatiana nodded. "Exactly, Olya is definitely a worthy leader for Russia. I find it funny how I acted more like a leader in our childhood, and our Tsarina here was following me before!"

"You do not have to remind me, you would always scold me for every outburst I had. Even a mistake in my dressing," Olga said with a pensive expression on her face.

Dmitri Pavlovich sipped from his glass of aged Spanish wine. The Grand Duke thought to himself with amusement. " _This conversation will get interesting very quickly, especially if cousin Olya loses her temper._ " he thought.

"Yet here I am, ruling the Russian Empire... at around nineteen years of age. If my relatives continue to intend so, Cousin Mitya will become Tsar. I hope that he focuses more on the people rather than his womanizing."

Dmitri Pavlovich felt annoyed. He blurted a comment that he soon regretted. "At least I use rubbers!"

Tatiana blanched, gasping. Anastasia looked at her first removed cousin with confusion, while Maria and Dmitri Ivanov burst into laughter. Anna cleared her throat and shook her head. Olga stared at her cousin as if he grew another head. No proper Russian royal would mention such a thing!

"Mitya, there are young girls here! Please watch what you say!" Anna scolded.

"My apologies, it was a mere slip of the tongue," the Grand Duke sighed.

"Perhaps from excessive drink, Cousin Mitya. You are a Grand Duke, not the next Rasputin" Olga chided.

Dmitri frowned. "I abhor being compared to that certain monk."

Olga shook her head. "Do the saints themselves have not any transgressions? Even apostle Peter himself denied the Christ."

"It depends on if the heart is willing to make up for such past mistakes," the Grand Duke retorted.

"That is true, but there is no guarantee that they may change. The same can be said of the radical revolutionaries who killed Mama and Papa."

Everyone in the dining room became silent at the comment from the young Tsarina. The idealistic young girl he knew in his childhood was gone, replaced with a pragmatic and wary leader. The loss of his adoptive parents, the late Nicholas and Alexandra, had hurt him deeply as well. Although he did not see the mourning ceremony, he understood what it was like to lose a parent. First, he had lost his mother to childbirth complications. After that tragedy, he was removed from his father. Nicholas the Second had cared for him until the Livadia Raid of 1912. On that night, everything had changed for the young Grand Duke. When it was time to bless the meal, he pleaded to God that things would improve. He did not pray very often, but at that moment he felt it was necessary.

The prayer ended a few minutes later. Dmitri Pavlovich began to enjoy his lunch. Taking a bite of stroganoff, he savored the taste. The sensation reminded him of the occasional meals served by his original father. Over twelve years had passed since he had seen his father, Grand Duke Paul of Russia. He yearned to see his father again, and he could only wonder if the new Tsarina would allow the return of Grand Duke Paul.

"I would also like to mention that I am planning to make an appearance for us. Still, I am making preparations for such an event."

Tatiana, who often kept silent, spoke. "I do not think that it would be a good idea. Do you remember the discussion about Report 128?"

"No, I do not."

"Does the name Gleb Vaganov come to mind?"

Olga stopped lifting her fork, and she realized what her sister referred to. "The son of the late Red Bear."

"Exactly, dear sister. I do not want us to be easy targets for an assassination, just like the Austrian Grand Duke who was assassinated over two weeks ago. I implore that we do not make an appearance yet!"

"I know why you fear, Tatya. I could check if the security arrangements are enough, but the appearance has not come yet. For now, let us enjoy our time. Certainly, little Nastya here must have an idea of how to do so."

Tatiana stuttered. "But- but the risk-"

"Is in good hands," Olga reassured in a calm tone, looking at her sister.

"If Cousin Olya solved the Serbian Crisis, then I believe that she can deal with a single revolutionary, Cousin Tatya," Dmitri Pavlovich said.

The second eldest Grand Duchess still could not dispel her fears. She sighed. Olga was as stubborn, intelligent, and kind as her father. Yet the doubt persisted. Her eldest sister had skillfully avoided a crisis, but how would her reign fare after a few decades?

Anastasia was confused about the issue of Gleb. She looked at her best friend Dmitri, who shrugged. Maria patted her sister on the shoulder to comfort her, and Anastasia thanked her. With the leadership of her eldest sister, she believed that the situation would continue to improve. Eventually, Russia would finally raise itself out of the rut of stagnation and shine as a world leader. Everyone in the dining room hoped that they would see that happen. Everyone would each play their small part in achieving that dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although this may not be strictly based on the play, there will be plenty of references about the lives of the real Romanovs. I did my best to capture key personality traits of the Romanov daughters and their relatives. Even the actions of our young Tsarina were deliberately based on key personal traits: her stubbornness, her intellectual nature, and her temper. The real Olga in our timeline never became Tsarina, so everything she did here is pure speculation.
> 
> The Ottoman Empire, which will survive, will have a role in the later parts of this series. Of course, some things will change since there is no WWI in the 1910s. The Armenian Genocide could be delayed by a few decades. Also, the Ottomans will be more wary of a developing Imperial Russia.
> 
> Germany will also change in some ways as well. It will become communist from all the revolutionaries fleeing Imperial Russia, so it will not be ruled by the Nazis. Furthermore, the Holocaust will not happen. Instead, the capitalists and Christians in Germany will suffer the most. That is all I can reveal for now.


	20. Discussions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The United States President Woodrow Wilson takes notice of the achievements of Olga I of Russia. Impressed, he begins indirect negotiations with Imperial Russia to reinstate the trade agreement between the two nations. Meanwhile, important revolutionaries meet in Germany to plot yet another sinister plan...

_October 5, 1915_

_The Kremlin_

Olga remained seated on the throne that once belonged to her late father. The ornate and gold-painted throne was the only throne on the stepped platform. As the doors to the throne room opened, the ambassador of the United States to Russia entered alongside two American soldiers. She grew self conscious while looking at the tall and slim man. His hair had begun to gray, and there were wrinkles on his forehead. By comparison, Olga still had the figure of an older girl: shorter and more slender. The two guards watched the two American soldiers and the ambassador while they approached the Tsarina. One of them noticed that he held a briefcase. Olga could only hope that the United States had approved of her recent performance as Tsarina.

"Your Majesty," the ambassador spoke, bowing before Olga.

"Mister George Marye... I appreciate the gesture. You may stand."

The ambassador stood straight again, and he opened his briefcase with one arm, holding it with the other. He revealed a white envelope with a red-colored stamp of the American eagle. He closed the briefcase and held out the envelope. Olga raised an eyebrow, and her breathing quickened. What message did the Americans send? Otherwise, her face remained stoic. She could not lose her composure in front of the ambassador of an emerging power.

"This is a letter from President Woodrow Wilson. He has been very interested with the recent developments within Russia. Thus, I believe that our nations' relations will improve. Please carefully consider the letter."

With a gentle touch, Olga took the envelope, placing it in a slot on the throne. She smiled from the success of her efforts to turn Russia around. The Americans were appeased, and she hoped to restore trade with their nation. She needed American industry to move into her country and modernize its backwards infrastructure and technology. The standards of living, if risen, would further gain her more support. In order to do so, she would need to appease the progressive Woodrow Wilson. The process of improving the image of Russia to the world would take an extended period of time, but it was possible.

Olga I of Russia, as she was now called by many, got off her throne. "I think we should move the discussion to a more suitable place."

"Absolutely, Your Majesty."

After making their way out of the Kremlin Palace, escorted by a group of American and Russian soldiers and palace guards, they reached the Kremlin Senate. It was a Neoclassical style building with towering white columns and pale yellowish walls. The front plaza had gardens of various flowers and leafy bushes with vibrant shades of green. The American ambassador stopped his pace for a few seconds to admire the view. The Russia he had seen was neither backwards or barbaric, but advanced and cultured. He also thought of the similarities of Americans and Russians. Both of them were a proud, strong, and patriotic people.

"The front gardens remind me of the gardens at the Alexander Palace. I would often go there to collect my thoughts," Olga said.

"Yes, it is good to let oneself unwind. I often spent much of my time banking in a cramped office before I assumed my position... so I went golfing."

"Playing golf? I have never tried such a thing before, but if I had time, I would try it."

Olga and George Marye entered the building. They made their way to the Office Room, where a lone wooden desk stood beside two chairs. Bookshelves lined the walls. To the surprise of the ambassador, they were almost empty. Electric lamps on the walls emitted light, brightening the room in pale light. Olga motioned for her guards to stay outside the room, and the ambassador did the same to his escort. Both of them took their seats. They wasted little time and began the discussions.

The Tsarina of Russia tore open the envelope, taking out a folded letter. She began to read it.

_From the President of the United States of America,_

_Hello, Your Majesty of Russia._ _Before your reign, there were some earlier flaws in our countries' relations, but you have resolved them through your actions as ruler. I_ _t has come to my attention that you have achieved a resolution to the Austro-Serbian Crisis and addressed domestic issues in your country. For those actions, I warmly congratulate you. As I once said to a fellow American of mine who questioned why I did certain actions, a leader's ear must ring with the voices of the people. You have done well with that ideal in mind._ _You are like the Second Star of the North, shining with enlightenment and compassion for your people._

_I am optimistic of what the future holds for our two great nations. We both are patriots and reformers at heart, and I believe that together we can set an example for the world to follow. Below are some requests I have given with best interests in mind. Consider them with care._

_Request I: The Russian-American Trade Treaty should be reinstated. It is recommended that tariffs on both sides may be lowered to promote economic growth and ease of product flow..._

_Request II: American companies such as Ford and US Steel have long desired to spread to new markets, especially the Russian market. Our request is that we outsource those businesses. A gentle reminder: U.S labor laws do not apply to workers in outsourced factories, so ensure that working conditions are appropriate..._

Olga took a deep breath, reading through the rest of the letter. She wanted to smile and jump with joy, but the celebrations could wait. George Marye held his breath as the Tsarina placed the letter aside.

"I will consider those requests, but I believe that there are more details..."

"The requests are written in general terms. That is to allow any policies passed to be more flexible for any situation," the ambassador spoke, placing his hands in his pockets.

"I see. Your president has thought ahead very well."

The ambassador and the Tsarina continued to discuss the proposals within the letter. Olga soon realized another benefit from a revitalized alliance with the United States. She had been aware of the shaky relations with Great Britain and Germany. If she had the United States as an ally, she would have more external security against those two possible threats. She was uncertain if Britain or Germany would enter into a war with Russia in the future. However, it would be best to find safety before it was too late. As a Tsarina inspired by Catherine the Great, she needed to act based on reason.

"I have enjoyed this conversation very much, Ambassador Marye. Is there more unsaid?" she asked.

"Not at all, Your Majesty, except for the subject of certain radicals such as Leon Trotsky and Lenin," the ambassador replied.

Olga felt uncomfortable at the mention of Trotsky. He was the leader of the Trotskyist Bolsheviks who advocated for a worldwide violent revolution. His location was unknown to the Okhrana, but there was one certain piece of trivia. Thankfully, Trotsky was outside of Russia. This was both a blessing and difficulty for her regime. Although Trotsky could not yet interfere with the Romanov regime, he could not be caught either!

"They will be dealt with in due time," Olga said, but she could not hide her nervous tone.

Trotsky was a force to be feared, as his cunning nature and ruthlessness was known throughout the revolutionary community and even the monarchists. Olga was not certain, but she had a suspicion that the Livadia Raid was influenced by a larger figure. Perhaps that entity was Trotsky. The late Red Bear, or Mikhail Vaganov, was possibly a mere henchman for the exiled Bolshevik leader. If so, she would have to find a way to eliminate him. Before, she thought that the world was a better place that would resolve its own issues over time. Now, she had realized one hard truth: the world was a twisted place where might made right. To survive, one needed to be ruthless and cunning. Olga hated to admit it, but she began to notice that good and evil were not black and white. To protect her people and Russia itself, how far would she go?

Mayre looked at the Tsarina with a concerned look. "Your Majesty?"

"Oh, I apologize. I was pondering the topic of the Bolshevik leaders. They are a threat to our interests, and possibly, our governments."

"Certainly, we can discuss that later or now."

"Later, Mister Mayre. We must focus on restoring relations between our countries... we have plenty of work ahead of us."

* * *

It was midnight in Vienna, Austro-Hungary. A passenger train pulled into one of its train stations, gradually slowing down. In one of the passenger cars, a curly bearded man with dark brown eyes sat next to a teenage boy. The man read the newspaper, sometimes scoffing at an article. One of the headlines, printed in big bold letters, read **Possible Companion to Olga I of Russia?**

Upon the page, there was a picture of Grand Duke Dmitri Pavlovich dressed in his soldier uniform. The man scowled and flipped multiple pages until he reached the end. The man closed the newspaper before patting the boy on the head, almost a gentle touch.

"Mister Yurovsky-"

"Hush, Vaganov. Your father would not want you to be captured before your time. It is my responsibility to watch you, and I would hate to fail that," Yakov Yurovsky whispered in a firm tone.

The boy, Gleb, looked up at Yakov with a weary gaze. The older man gave the boy a slight smile. The hardened revolutionary, despite his zeal for the Bolshevik cause, still held a soft spot for the boy. The boy was the son of his late leader, the Red Bear. Yakov knew his last orders from Mikhail Vaganov: to send his son to Trotsky for safety and training. The future of the revolutionary movement was at stake, and Yakov would not allow a petty young Tsarina to hamper it. Yakov had not yet found a wife, but to love this unfortunate little boy like a foster father would do. He reached into his pocket, taking out a lollipop. He offered Gleb the candy piece, and Gleb smiled before taking it.

" _Spasibo_ , Mister Yurovsky," Gleb whispered before licking the lollipop.

Yakov felt calm and a mild sensation of warmth within him. If only the troublesome Romanov and German monarchies were overthrown, his fellow proletariat could finally live in peace. However, that was easier stated than achieved. This Tsarina, unlike her predecessor, was more ruthless against revolutionaries. Her weapon was not force, but welfare and consideration for the working class. This placed the revolutionaries in a dangerous position. Any attacks on the monarchy would only turn more people against their cause. Yet every day wasted was another day for the Tsarina of Russia to gain support.

"This Olga is quite intelligent, isn't she?" Gleb asked.

"Yes. She has a very... practical and sound mind. She will also not stop until we are vanquished. This makes her a great threat," Yakov whispered.

"Yet- I think that she will make a mistake that will cost herself her reign."

Gleb snickered. "Certainly that prudish, privileged chit will let her overconfidence and power go to her mind."

Yakov and Gleb kept silent until the train came to a stop. The doors were opened by staff, and passengers began to stand up in the lit interior of the train cars.

"Get your bag, Gleb. We must find a Mister T."

" _Trotsky, the exile of the Bolsheviks,_ " Gleb thought as he reached below for his travel bag.

Both of the fugitive revolutionaries grabbed their bags and put on their hats. Some time later, they made their way out of the station. They were relieved when the guards did not notice their identities. Now that they had safely arrived in Vienna, they needed to find Trotsky.

Yakov and Gleb, dressed in drab colored suits and pants, awaited a taxi. Gleb looked around, feeling cautious. Not a single one of the passerby gave them a second glance. Minutes passed, and the man looked at his watch. Finally, the two men heard the sound of an approaching motor vehicle, and they turned their heads to see an Audi E car approaching. Its sleek painted metal exterior glinted under the dim streetlights. The driver, an aging man with a small nose, stopped the car and gestured for them to get in. They took their seats.

Yakov took out a slip of paper. "To Gatz Gentlemen's Club. We have an old friend to meet there."

"Understood, sir," the driver replied.

By the time the Yakov and Gleb arrived, a light rain had already started to fall, moistening the ground. Yakov tipped the taxi driver with a generous amount, and Gleb looked at the club building, painted in a striking shade of crimson red. On top of the door, a canopy hung. A lone guard stood underneath the canopy, eying the two newcomers with a squint. Muffled cheers and whistles sounded from within the building.

"Thank you, sir," the taxi driver said.

The taxi drove away and rounded a corner, disappearing out of sight. Yakov reached into his pocket and pulled out a small gold plate. The guard widened his eyes as he watched the two guests walk closer. Otherwise, he showed no other reactions.

"No one under seventeen may enter, _sir_. This is no mother's shop."

Yakov raised an eyebrow as he gave the guard the gold item. The guard sighed. "Fine, how about the boy?"

"He is seventeen... I want to show my son an old friend here."

"Alright, go in before I change my mind."

The first thing that Gleb noticed as he stepped inside the club was the humid and warm air. A strange musky odor filled the room: the smell of sweat and spilled drinks from the patrons. Tables surrounded four platforms where scantily clad women danced, swaying their hips in a seductive manner. Their skin almost seemed to glow under the dim lights, tempting the men who watched with hungry gazes. A few of them whistled and hollered for the women to take off their corsets. it was obvious that they were drunk.

"I assume that Mister T has gone here?" Gleb asked, looking up at the face of his companion.

"Hush. We will see him soon. For now, I will get you a drink."

Gleb sat at the bar counter with Yakov, who ordered and paid for a small portion of aged Spanish wine. The bartender smiled at the two patrons, and he searched the shelves of bottles for the drink. The bartender gave them their glasses filled with the potent reddish-violet drink. A few minutes passed as Gleb sipped from his glass, looking at the door beside the bar, wondering what was behind it. He did not have to wait very long to find out.

A man with dark frizzled hair and a beard slammed open the door with a loud bang, breathing heavily. His black suit was wrinkled, and his belt had been loosened.

" _Blyat,_ " he spat, as a woman giggled in the room behind him.

Yakov glanced at the man with a confused look, and the man smiled back.

"Red Fist... our paths cross again," the man said, walking closer.

"Trotsky, your soon to be protégé is here," Yakov said in a low tone.

"Good, do not mind that _cyka_ nearby, she was quite... rambunctious," Trotsky muttered, taking a seat beside Yakov.

"We have much to discuss, and I admire you for choosing an inconspicuous place for refuge. Very clever of you."

Trotsky laughed. "Yes. Even Lenin would be too much of a prude to even consider such an idea."

Yakov chuckled. This would be an interesting night for the three men, who would discuss plans for a German revolution and support for communist movements around the world...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have read that Trotsky and Lenin were at odds with each other, so that is why he insults Lenin within the club scene. I realized that I needed more scenes about the revolutionaries' plots, so here you go!
> 
> George Mayre was the American ambassador to Imperial Russia during most of the 1910s. In the original timeline, he tried to restore the 1832 Trade Treaty with Russia. In this timeline, he attempts to reinstate free trade with Imperial Russia in general.
> 
> The gentleman's club scene was really just for humorous purposes. It also brings in those cliche vibes of some bad guys meeting in shady places. Hopefully the communists have more depth to them as human characters, based on the lollipop scene.


	21. Impromptu Courting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Romanov extended family expects a heir, and Olga has no choice but to get familiar with Dmitri Pavlovich.

_January 7, 1916_

A few months passed, leading into the year of 1916. Russia was in economic bloom, allowing the lower classes to reap the results of their hard work. With better working conditions under decrees and policies approved by Olga and her advisors, the lower classes were content for the time being. A few critics had protested peacefully in the streets to demand the removal of the Okhrana. Their demands went unheeded, creating some dissatisfaction with the new Empress of Russia. Revolutionary support especially for the radical anarchists and communists had been cut in half. Only about fifty-five percent of Russians approved of their Tsarina. It would take more time for the commoners to approve of their new ruler.

However, there was one thing that the Russian peoples found peculiar with the monarchy: there was no Tsar yet. Who would be their emperor? Could the rumored companion of Tsarina Olga I of Russia, Dmitri Pavlovich, be the next Tsar?

The day of Valentine's Day arrived. Olga, her sisters, and her annoying yet dear cousin were sheltered in the Alexander Palace with their palace staff. The winds blew outside, shuffling fine snow particles on every surface outside. The temperatures were still at least minus twenty celsius, so the royal guards had been ordered to stay indoors. On that day, the Tsarina spent much of her time in her room with Tatiana except for mealtimes.

Olga laid under her dark blue blankets on her bed, looking at the ceiling deep in thought. She knew that her subjects would eventually wonder about the possibility of a new Tsar. But this was not the only reason why she had been disturbed recently. The thoughts of her past crush, Pavel, plagued her mind. She never admitted it in front of her sisters, but she missed him. She had not seen Pavel since the summer of 1912, and she wondered how he had fared since then. Had he found another love? Thinking of the question only sunk the heart of the young Empress.

Tatiana, her closest confidante and sister, sat on her cot nearby. She often did not speak to Dmitri Pavlovich, mortified by his womanizing ways. She also disliked the idea of her closest sister marrying or even courting him. As long as Olga and Dmitri did not marry, she would disapprove of any coupling between her sister and the Grand Duke.

"Although our grandmother, Aunt Olga, and Aunt Xenia demand for you to court Cousin Mitya, I will _not_ allow that to happen," she declared, crossing her arms.

Olga sighed. "Tatya, I know that this may seem to be a terrible match, but this is for the good of our Russia. The people need a Tsar, sister. If it is my cross to bear to help millions of souls, so be it."

"What about Officer Pavel? I thought that you would like to be with him."

"Yes, that is true... and I miss him a great deal. Yet, it is my duty as Tsarina to ensure that our dynasty continues and flourishes. I will need to bear heirs or heiresses for the throne... even if it is with a man I do not love," Olga said with a forlorn face.

"But Olya-"

"I must do what I must, even if it breaks my heart. When I see Pavel, I will have to let him..."

Olga could not bring herself to finish her sentence, and tears began fall from her eyes. She turned her face away to hide her tears. Her sobs were the sounds of her heart tearing in two as the harsh reality began to sink in. She was only twenty now. She felt so young and lost. Her parents were gone, and she would later need to engage herself to a man she did not love. Her crush would not be with her forever. Even worse, Trotsky was still at large.

"If only Papa were here!" Olga cried, before burying her face in her pillow.

"Please, do not cry, Olya. It hurts me as well to see you cry, and I think Papa would be sad too to see you in such a state. You do not have to court Mitya, however handsome he may be. Do not fear the future, sister. We will face this together," Tatiana said in a calm tone, gripping her sister by the hand.

"I- I realize... There are still p- people who hate us, or even want us d-dead. I know nothing about being a good wife or raising babies!"

"Olya, you are a compassionate and wise young lady! I do not doubt that you will make a fine mother to your future children, even if they are Mitya's as well. I also do not doubt that you are doing well as Tsarina. You have stopped a war from happening! You have helped the poor workers!"

Olga said nothing, letting her sobs gradually dwindle over the hour while her sister held her.

"Thank you, Tatya, for trusting in me."

"You are very welcome, Olya. As your sister, I would never leave you."

The two sisters embraced each other, sharing their tears and pain. For both of them, their tears would wash away their sadness to leave behind relief. If they were to be honest, their duties had distracted them from what they needed the most. It was the love of their family. Once the flow of tears had ceased, they let go of each other.

"Promise me that you will accept the inevitable marriage between me and Cousin Mitya," Olga said.

"I am sorry, but I still believe that another Grand Duke would be a better match," Tatiana said, shaking her head.

"At least he is handsome... in my opinion."

Both sisters giggled. Tatiana still had her doubts about the pairing of her sister and her Cousin Mitya, but if they found happiness in each other, she would not interfere.

Olga left the room later, making her way to the right wing of her home. She passed by the study of Sidney Gibbs, hearing the voices of the Little Pair reading lines from a book. The familiar baritone of the voice of their tutor drifted from under the door. It was not long before she reached the door to the bedroom where Dmitri Pavlovich stayed. She knocked on the door, but no response came.

"Cousin Mitya?"

A few moments passed, and she noticed no response. However, she felt the hairs on her neck stand up. She heard a sudden sound behind her.

"Boo!" a familiar voice said.

Olga let out a yelp, turning around in a second to see a laughing Dmitri Pavlovich. Holding her hand on her beating heart, she felt a mixture of emotions well up within her. She did not know how she could care for and despise her cousin so much. Dmitri laughed hard, and his face began to turn a slight red from his exertion of his laughs. Doubled over, the Grand Duke continued to choke with laughter.

"If you were anyone outside of my family, I would have had you banished from the palace," Olga said, crossing her arms.

Dmitri ceased laughing a moment later, making a shoo motion with his hand. "Relax, Cousin Olya. It was merely for humorous purposes... To be honest, you look adorable when you are angry."

Olga felt her face warm. "I am not your _plaything_ , nor am I a mere _child_!"

"Alright, alright... I apologize, Your Majesty. I must admit... I am quite bored being confined within this palace."

The young Empress took a deep breath. "Then what can you do besides scaring people? Court me?"

"Well, your grandmother demands it, your two aunts demand it-"

"Okay, I understand!"

Olga felt less angry, yet her cousin seemed to be a great annoyance. If the Grand Duke could focus on other things besides wooing women and racing horses, he would definitely make a good Tsar.

"We can get to know each other within my quarters. I promise that I will not embarrass you... greatly."

"If this will improve our less than ideal relationship, I approve of it."

"I approve of that as well."

Both Dmitri and Olga entered the quarters. Like the rooms of the Grand Duchesses, it had few pieces of furniture and many photos mounted on the walls. The bed had a mattress and a pillow. Thick golden-yellow blankets covered the bed. Beside the bed, there was a drawer and desk. Framed pictures rested on the bare surfaces. Olga stepped to the table, picking up a familiar photograph. It was a childhood photo of her, her sisters, and Dmitri Pavlovich sitting together on the Standart. She could not help smiling at the image of a smirking Dmitri and Anastasia.

"Do you remember that day?" Dmitri asked Olga.

"I do... I remember that Nastya had pranked me and you, yet I forgot how."

"She soaked our undergarments with cold water, I think I was the only one laughing at her antics."

Olga made a displeased hum. "Well, I did not enjoy that one bit."

Dmitri chuckled. "Your mother almost chastised your youngest sister. I had never seen her so upset before."

"Indeed. Still, I love Nastya as a sister, even if she pranks me or jokes about me. I understand that she only does such things to keep us happy."

"Yet when I do so, you cannot see that I do such things for the exact same reason," Dmitri said, stepping closer to Olga.

"Perhaps I am not used to receiving pranks from you, or your poorly executed flirtations."

"When we get married, I hope that you will grow accustomed to that, especially sharing a bed," Dmitri said, gazing at Olga.

Olga blushed at the thought of being intimate with the Grand Duke. "That is... that is too far ahead of us, Mitya. And I doubt that Tatya will approve of us being together for some time."

"That is not very severe, Cousin Olya. At least no harm is done."

The two of them took their seats beside the desk, and they continued to converse. They laughed together. They shared more special memories together. Two hours passed, and they both felt satisfied with their shared company. The thought of Tatiana disapproving of them together baffled them. Could the old adage of attracting opposites be true?

Olga got off of her chair. She gave a faint smile to Dmitri Pavlovich, who laid back in his chair, grinning.

"I have enjoyed our time together, Mitya," she said.

"So have I. What else can we do together? I believe that you may be as bored as I."

"Perhaps a game of chess?"

"Certainly, I think that my bedroom has a chessboard that we can use."

Dmitri and Olga stepped out of the room, and they encountered the Little Pair walking by. Both Maria and Anastasia spotted them, and they could not resist making comments.

"Ooh, Olga is with Cousin Mitya!" Maria remarked, and Anastasia smirked.

Olga rolled her eyes. "Of course, I am getting to know him, starting this day. Surely you two should know that Grandmama, Auntie Olga, and Auntie Xenia want me and Mitya together."

"Why?" Anastasia asked.

"Russia needs a Tsar, especially since Papa passed away."

The statement brought forth silence. Even though it had been four years, the loss of their father still remained a gloomy topic to mention. Dmitri, not wanting them to lose their happiness, attempted to change the subject.

"I suppose that a game of chess is in order?"

"Take my mind off of that dreadful day, please," Olga replied.

The Little Pair made their way through the halls of their grandiose home, admiring the outside view of the snowy front lawns. Olga and Dmitri followed close behind. To their surprise, they did not see Tatiana anywhere in the bedroom. Perhaps Tatiana had returned to her bedroom, which was connected to Olga's own bedroom. Dmitri looked around the room, scrutinizing the well-made bed and cleaned floor. The Little Pair then jumped on the well-made bed, wrinkling the blankets. The young Empress sighed.

"You do a good job of keeping your bedroom tidy, Your Majesty," Dmitri said.

"I have done that everyday since I was a young girl, Mitya. It is nothing worthy of praise."

"To take care of oneself is a great virtue, as my foster father Sergei once said. To keep your own possessions tidy is a good habit, something that I admit to neglect sometimes."

Olga chuckled. She felt satisfaction at hearing her first removed cousin admit his wrongs. The satisfaction was short lived, as she realized that she too had her failings. Her temper was proof of that, and she recalled how her mother had warned her to not remain angry for a long time. A biblical verse came to her mind: _do not let the sun go down on your anger_. She had heard of marriages failing among the aristocracy, and she began to suspect that they had not managed their emotions well. Although she did not want to marry Dmitri Pavlovich, she knew that it would still happen. Dmitri was not one to be roused into anger with ease, but she was. As the unofficial fiancee of the Grand Duke and future Tsar, she would have to control her anger for the sake of their relationship.

She wanted to marry for love, and only with a fellow Russian. She loved Russia, wanting to remain a part of it. At least she would remain in Russia by blood. The realization hurt her, but she knew that she may have to let go of her feelings. Even then, Pavel would not be able to stay with her: she was far above his station. Tsarinas and officers do not marry. A crush was fleeting, but a marriage was something to last. She did not want to disappoint her relatives who continued to pester her to find a consort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I believe that the common people of Russia would still be wary of Olga, as most of her predecessors had neglected some of their needs (labor laws and food) for many years. It may take years for them to warm up to their new Tsarina. Even then, some people can be very stubborn and remain revolutionaries.
> 
> As usual, writing the interactions between Olga and Dmitri is a source of enjoyment for me! I will do my best to ensure that their romance is well paced.


	22. Tease

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Romanov daughters clash with Dmitri Pavlovich during yet another mealtime.

_June 11, 1916_

Dmitri Ivanov, in the few years he had spent in service to the Romanovs, had never felt this peculiar feeling long before. Every time that Anastasia passed by him and met him, he would feel a warm, uplifting feeling rise within himself. Whenever he did not see her for extended periods of time, he felt an emptiness and coldness within his heart. With strawberry blonde hair, small nose, light blue eyes, and smooth lips, Anastasia had her friend in awe of her beauty. How could his Anya be called shvibzik when her beauty shone like that of an angelic being- no. She was only a friend, Dmitri thought. Perhaps she would not have felt the same as he did for her. She was far above his station.

The calls of the head cook brought him back to attention. He flinched at the sound of the barking voice of the cook.

"Where are those dishes, boy?"

"Yes, Mister Chernov, I am getting them!" Dmitri replied, resuming his task.

Dmitri collected the dishes from their shelves alongside his fellow kitchen servants. In time, he would see his friend once again, but would he confess his innermost feelings? He had developed something far more than fondness and care for the youngest Grand Duchess. He would never view her in the same way as before. Another thought emerged in his mind. Would the new Tsarina, Olga, accept such news? He did not know if she would or not, and that struck fear into him. It was not yet time to confess his feelings in front of the Romanovs, so he continued his work in silence.

Within the palace, Anastasia continued her English studies with great difficulty. Thoughts of a certain kitchen servant plagued her mind, and her heart beat faster whenever that happened. What was this mysterious yet glorious feeling that she had? It was a deep and soulful thing that made her heart feel a surge of energy every time she saw him. Before she could think further into the issue, her English tutor cleared his throat. Her sister Maria smiled at her, squinting her large blue eyes with such an intense stare, as if honing onto some hidden secrets.

Sidney Gibbs raised an eyebrow at the youngest Grand Duchess. His youngest pupil looked into his eyes, and they were somewhat dilated. She seemed quite distracted.

"You seem distracted, Anastasia. Is something bothering you?" he asked with a certain edge to his words.

Anastasia looked as if she were cornered, widening her eyes and putting her arms behind herself. "W-what? Uh... not at all, it is only a weird dream I had the night before."

"Ah, I see. Well, you two only have ten minutes until lunchtime, so please pay attention!"

The rest of the lesson passed without any distractions. It had taken the youngest Grand Duchess much of her willpower to stay focused. The older, cryptic English within _Hamlet_ did not help. She was in a pensive mood, but not about English literature. On top of her feelings for Dmitri, her fifteenth birthday was approaching. Only a week was left.

She sighed, opening her book and flipping to the page requested by her tutor. Once she had marked the page, she looked at the grandfather clock. It was time for lunch.

"Good work, you two. I must say, Anastasia, that you should pay more attention during our studies. Only then you will succeed," Sidney said.

"Yes, Mister Gibbs," Anastasia said, crossing her fingers behind her back.

Both of the Little Pair left the room and made their way to the Dining Hall. The servants had all come out to place the meals upon the cloth covered table. One of them, a brunette boy with warm brown eyes, winked at Anastasia. Anastasia giggled. Maria noticed the unspoken exchanges between her sister and the servant. No excuses would persuade Maria to think otherwise. The tracking gaze of her sister upon a certain kitchen servant boy only verified her suspicions. They both watched the servants exit through the door to the kitchen.

Maria grinned. "Looks like you have a liking-"

"Mashka... it is not what you think it is!" Anastasia interrupted.

"Do not be afraid, I will not tell Olya. I know that you are happy with Mitya, and that makes me happy as well."

A moment passed before Anastasia spoke. Maria was right.

"Oh, thank you! Tatya would certainly make a ruckus if Mitya and I were... um... together like that."

The sound of chattering grew closer and closer. Both Maria and Anastasia took their seats, being careful not to take the seat where Olga sat. The current ruler was still their dear eldest sister, despite being the head of the Romanov family. They were kept in the dark of what Olga needed to handle as Tsarina. They understood why. They could not imagine being the leader of not only their family including their cousins, but the ruler of a vast country. It was relieving that they would not have to deal with such a heavy burden, and they felt confident in the leadership shown by Olga. Her education under their late father had done wonders alongside her intellect. Even more surprising was that she kept her temper under control for over three years.

Even the constant teases from their first removed cousin Dmitri Pavlovich could not break that immense self-control. Instead of exploding in rage, the most that Olga would do was clash with words. Never should she use fists or feet, except for the time that he placed a small bucket of ice cold water on top of her bedroom door. In his defense, there was only so much one could do while trapped inside a building for much of his time.

Olga and Tatiana took their seats. They looked at their youngest sister, who wore a wide smile.

"Nastya, why are you smiling? What is so funny?" Olga asked.

"Oh, it was something that happened last winter. I just remembered the time when Cousin Mitya pranked you with a bucket of-"

"Please... do not bring that subject up," Olga said.

"Yes, Olya."

Anna Demidova entered the room with Dmitri Pavlovich. The Grand Duke and official fiancee of Olga was dressed in a plain white shirt and black pants. He raised an eyebrow at Olga who stared at him. When his eyes made contact with hers, she turned away. What had caused such a reaction from his fiancee?

"Erm... is something wrong with my choice of clothing?" Dmitri said, flexing his right arm on purpose.

"N- no, not at all!" Olga stuttered.

Maria whispered something into one ear of her youngest sister, who giggled. Tatiana narrowed her eyes at the Grand Duke. His thin shirt had short sleeves, exposing his muscular arms. It seemed as if the Grand Duke was flaunting his masculine looks. That did not come as a surprise to the Grand Duchess, as Dmitri Pavlovich was a flirt. It was hard to believe that the free-spirited and humorous young man sitting across from her elder sister was the future Tsar.

The Grand Duke grinned. His scheme to gain attention from his fiancee had succeeded! He liked her company, and he often felt fond of her. To him, smart and willful women attracted him like no other kind. Romance was not around the corner, but he had a feeling that their opposing natures would make a good match.

"If you are trying to woo my sister, your efforts fall pathetically short of the mark," Tatiana said, and the Grand Duke widened his eyes as if he had been slapped.

"What-"

"I suppose that is a victory for us, _OTMA_ ," Olga said, and she snickered at the thought of her fiancee finally being reprimanded for his womanizing ways.

"But that was just a rude and childish remark, nothing more than a taunt!"

"Yet you were speechless," Olga said.

Tatiana, for the first time in days, chuckled. As all four Romanov sisters began to snicker and chuckle, Dmitri placed his hands over his face and groaned. His efforts to win the attentions of the Tsarina had backfired. Once they had stopped laughing, Olga and her sisters went silent, but an apology would be necessary. The hapless Grand Duke seemed embarrassed. They could very well notice that his cheeks were pink.

"I apologize, Mitya, I could not resist creating some schemes to settle our scores after that bucket prank you had done. In fact, I anticipated that you would attempt to woo me with more... physical means. Thus, I managed to persuade Tatya to follow my plan."

"Well, it seems that you know me very well. I now doubt that _I_ know you as well."

"Truly said, Mitya. Do you accept this as grounds for surrender, Dmitri Pavlovich?" Olga said, giving a smug smile.

A moment passed, and Dmitri stroked his stubble. He sighed. "Yes, Olya. You have bested me once again with your intellect."

Olga laughed before sipping from her glass of water, a beautiful sound filling the room. "No need for dramatics. I hope that this was an enjoyment for ourselves. I admit that I like your playfulness, it reminds me much of my childhood with Mama and Papa."

Dmitri sipped from his glass of wine. "I have a liking for your sharp mind and compassionate heart... a duo of natures best suited for an Empress of Russia."

"You flatter me."

"I am giving my honors for you, Olya. The Mother of New Russia."

"The Mother of New Russia... I approve of that title. How about a title for you when you become Tsar?"

"I would say, _The Father of New Russia_ ," Dmitri said.

"How original," Anastasia said before taking a large bite of her lunch.

"Nastya, we must bless the food first!" Tatiana chided.

"Sorry, I was really hungry," Anastasia said.

Those seated at the table prayed for not only the food, but for the safety and prosperity of their fellow Russians in a changing world. After the prayer, they could finally have their lunch. Anastasia, as usual, tried to stab a grape with her fork again. Instead of succeeding, she propelled the grape towards Dmitri Pavlovich, and it rolled down his shirt.

"Sorry," Anastasia said in a sing-song tone, and Dmitri laughed.

"Will you return the grape to me, please?" she added, looking at Dmitri with her signature pout.

Dmitri Pavlovich smirked, and he picked the grape from his lap and dangled it.

"You do not dare."

The Grand Duke lowered the grape even closer to his mouth.

"Please, Cousin Mitya-"

Dmitri licked his lips before dropping the grape into his mouth. He ate it, and Anastasia trembled her lip in a frown. She was going to fake cry. Nevertheless, Anastasia began to fake whimper and bowed her head. Maria and Tatiana attempted to ignore the antics of their youngest sister and older first removed cousin. They could only wonder why Anastasia preferred using a fork to eat grapes. Yes, Dmitri Pavlovich was a troublemaker as well as their little shvibzik.

" _Do not give in, Dmitri Pavlovich. Do not give in..._ " the Grand Duke thought, trying his best to ignore the whimpers.

"Cousin Mitya, that was awfully mean of you to take her grape," Maria scolded, no longer able to ignore the situation.

"What- she was not eating it, but playing with it. Food is supposed to be food."

"You could have given Nastya her food back."

Anna Demidova felt somewhat annoyed. Ever since the passing of the late Tsar and Tsarina, she felt that Anastasia and her first removed cousin were more unruly. She hoped that both Anastasia and Dmitri Pavlovich would mature over the years, yet the two royals were very much alike: stubborn, free souls that enjoyed having fun. She had to stop the situation from escalating.

"Both of you, stop that."

"I agree with Miss Demidova. If this continues any longer, I will have to give a timeout."

"Not me, I am a grown man!" Dmitri exclaimed.

"Yet you act as if you are over ten years younger. You are _four years_ older than I, Cousin Mitya," Olga chided, and Dmitri went silent.

Olga turned to Anastasia. "Nastya, eat your food, not play with it."

"Yes, Olya."

The rest of lunch passed without incident. Olga still had more to say, but the topic was far more significant than petty conflicts over food. She broke the silence with a single statement.

"I forgot to say... I am planning a visit to America. Their president has given permission for us to visit the Eastern United States."

Anastasia stood up from her chair. "Yay! I have always wanted to visit America!"

"I believe that all of us do."

"I heard that women over there are protesting for suffrage," Tatiana said, and Olga nodded.

"Will Russian women vote someday?" Anastasia asked.

"Whenever the next Duma meeting comes, I will consider allowing women to join it. I am unsure of how to implement suffrage for women because Russia is a monarchy, not a democracy where the people can vote."

"How about allowing women to serve as soldiers?" Dmitri suggested, sipping from his glass.

"That may be possible. It disappoints me that millions of loyal Russian women cannot completely serve our nation for good."

Russia had progressed by leaps and bounds under Olga I of Russia. At around twenty-one years of age, she had accomplished much, but there was still plenty that needed to be done. Anastasia was right. Women were still treated as unequals to men. Peasants had received better working conditions, but they still remained somewhat poor. Even worse, Trotsky was still at large. Lenin had long since escaped to Germany. The fact that the Kaiser tolerated them spoke volumes to the young Tsarina. She felt betrayed by her relative, and it stung. No longer would she consider the Kaiser as family, but the helper of the murderers of her late parents. Olga was related to the Kaiser through her late mother, but she refused to acknowledge that. She was born a Russian, and she would remain one.


	23. Departure to America

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the day of the long-awaited departure to America arrives. The Romanovs and their most loyal servants, invited by Woodrow Wilson, board the royal yacht for the trip. Grand Duke Mikhail Alexandrovich stays behind to keep order in Russia.

_June 25, 1916_

Just one hour after the sun rose in the sky, three Rolls Royce automobiles arrived at the Alexander Palace in Tsarskoe Selo. In one of the cars, a tall, bearded man with light brown hair stepped out. He looked around at the facade of the palace, which towered over him by over ten meters. The pale yellow walls of the palace shone in the sunlight and the white columns of the front pavilion stood as robust as ever. The doors of the left wing opened, and two people escorted by a dozen royal guards stepped outside.

They were the new royal couple to be: Olga I and Dmitri Pavlovich of Russia. Dmitri looked at the visitor, and his face lit up in a wide smile. His weary blue eyes shone with joy as well. Dmitri and Olga walked to the tall man, who looked at them with a happier expression. He chuckled.

"Cousin Mitya! Olya!" the man said

"Cousin Misha!" Dmitri greeted with an enthusiastic tone.

Both Russian Grand Dukes Mikhail Alexandrovich and Dmitri Pavlovich embraced each other and gave hearty laughs. After a moment, they let go of each other and began to converse.

Mikhail looked at the new Tsarina, who stood beside Dmitri with a raised eyebrow. The older Grand Duke cleared his throat when taking a step to her.

"Good morning to you as well, Uncle Misha. Thank you for being prompt with your appearance," Olga said.

"You are welcome, my niece."

A moment of silence passed as Olga and the two Grand Dukes returned to the palace.

"Uncle Misha? May I ask you something?"

"Yes?"

"How have I done?"

Mikhail smiled again before he spoke. "I am happy to see that you have handled the Austro-Serbian Crisis and quelled the revolutionary sentiments. Your father would have disagreed with those reforms… he wanted to follow the footsteps of your more conservative grandfather, Alexander the Third. Nevertheless, the reforms have done us well. I am proud of you, and I believe that your parents must be proud of you as well. Yet I have heard rumors of a certain traitor being interrogated."

" _Spasibo_ , Uncle Misha, and yes… the rumors are true. I… I… had to give the permit to the interrogators within the Okhrana. Sadly, they did not follow my request to interrogate the traitor's sister, and they- they shot her in the legs instead. All I could do was give the others a reprimand and send his sister to an infirmary. What makes me fear such a simple act is that I felt _nothing_. It always returns to my mind, and I wonder if I could have done something to prevent her unnecessary suffering."

"Your parents had just been murdered by the raiders at the Livadia Palace during that month. It is normal to be in denial and numbness after traumatic occurrences."

"But I allowed the sister of the traitor to be-"

Mikhail held his hand up. "The rumors may be true, but that does not change the core of your very being. You are kind and compassionate like your father. You are a sane and intelligent young woman, bearing responsibilities that few ever do. You must come to understand that many choices come with difficulty. Sometimes… you must choose one that hurts less than the more."

"Would it be better to force a third option to avoid hurting anyone undeserving of it?"

"Yes, but there will come a time when you will have to make a very hard decision where both choices cause great harm."

"What about the interrogation, what would you have done?"

"I would have personally overseen the interrogation to prevent any misdoings."

Olga remained silent for some time, pondering the words of her uncle. "I see."

"Good. Like chess, it is best to make few mistakes than to make many successes. You are the one to play a game to _not_ lose… continue playing like so."

" _Spasibo_ , Uncle Misha, for the advice. I have anguished over the memory since that time."

The Tsarina and the two Grand Dukes made their way into the Alexander Palace through the left center entrance. They went to the Left Wing and went up a flight of stairs. Now close to the bedrooms of the Grand Duchesses, Mikhail raised an eyebrow as he looked at an empty spot of the wall. Below the spot, another painting of Catherine the Great rested on the wall.

"Why is the portrait of Peter the Third missing?" he asked.

"I dislike Peter the Great. He was the least Russian of all the past Tsars, making a beard tax and other absurd laws to stamp out our culture. Once I believe that the economy is stable enough, I will promote our traditions once more," Olga said.

"Good to hear that you will bring back the old Russian ways. I see your point… but let us get to the reason why you called for me: you need someone to watch over Russia during your trip to America, right?"

"Without a doubt, Uncle Misha. The American president, Mister Wilson, has invited my family and I to the United States. There, we will negotiate a newer trade deal that will bring more industry to Russia. We will need more than just brave men if we are to fight another war- whenever it comes. It is already embarrassing enough for my homeland to be a mere breadbasket in an industrializing world."

"Do not worry a great deal about Russia. I will manage things while you, Mitya, and your sisters are in America… your policies will remain."

" _Spasibo_ , Uncle Misha," Olga replied, feeling grateful.

The young Tsarina opened the door to her bedroom. The walls were painted as pink as a blush, and a stenciled frieze of dragonflies soaring in the air decorated the lower ceiling. The room was split into two smaller areas by a white double door. Mikhail nodded in appreciation at the beauty of the bedroom, which almost gave off the atmosphere of an energetic and youthful childhood rather than a forced maturity. The various childhood pictures plastered all over the wall and on the nightstands added to that impression very much.

Olga walked to her desk beside the open windows, allowing the gentle breezes to gently ruffle her white dress ever so slightly. It was if she were a robed angel walking in the upper spaces of heaven. She picked up a framed picture. Dmitri went beside her to look at the picture. He squeezed her hand with gentle force, as it became noticeable that the Tsarina was blinking hard with watering eyes.

Mikhail did not know how to comfort the young Tsarina, who had been orphaned just four years ago. He had also lost his father, but at least his mother Marie Feodorovna was alive. So he kept silent as Dmitri whispered to her reassurances that her ordeal was over, that the storm had passed.

"Us Romanovs have been saved and redeemed in the eyes of our people because of you, Olya. Remember that your parents are in a better place and that they would be proud…"

"I do not weep only because of Mama and Papa's passing, Mitya. I have never told you this before..."

"What thing?" Dmitri asked in a sincere tone.

"I know it would be foolish of me- but I still miss the company of a certain junior officer very much. I knew him as Pasha… he was so kind and funny."

"And handsome?"

" _Da_. He was handsome."

"Things will pass by smoothly. Do not worry, you will see your friend again on the _Standart_ -"

The double door opened, allowing Tatiana to step into the other room. She rolled her eyes as Dmitri Pavlovich flashed his signature grin at her. It would take more than superficial charms and looks to woo a proper Grand Duchess like herself, she thought.

For their remaining four hours in the palace, the Romanov sisters would pack their belongings and enjoy a light lunch before their trip.

* * *

The moment had come. The Romanovs and some of their closest servants stepped out of the Alexander Palace. The Tsarina looked back at her home. Mikhail waved goodbye, praying that the trip would pass without incident. The Standart had never been on a voyage across the Atlantic. This time, they would.

Olga realized the significance of this voyage. She would be the first Empress of Russia to visit America in history. She felt a surge of excitement build up within herself. She could not resist smiling while she loaded her own travel bags onto her personal car.

Anna Demidova and kitchen servant Dmitri Ivanov took their seats in the last car in the procession. The Romanovs, as usual, took their seats in the first car once they had packed all of their items. Some of their relatives, including Maria Pavlovna and Marie Feodorovna, had arrived from the Pavlovsk Palace earlier. They too would sit in the second car along with Dmitri Pavlovich. The young Tsarina felt somewhat relieved that she sat separately from the free-spirited, womanizing Grand Duke.

Olga looked one last time at the Alexander Palace, her home. The guards gave a brief salute before the drivers began their drive towards the Petrograd docks. In the first car, the Romanov sisters kept quiet. The sheer realization that they were going to another continent left them in awe.

"America… I have heard many things about it. I am fascinated with how large and modernized their country is," Tatiana said.

"I hope that Mashka and I will find something to do there…" Anastasia murmured.

"You could have some fun with your friend," Maria suggested.

Anastasia smiled at the thought of touring America with her friend Dmitri. Already, she had developed a liking for photography. She looked forward to taking photographs of the famed New York City, Washington D.C, and other cities.

"I like that idea. Dmitri will be very happy about that."

The escort of cars arrived at the docks amidst cheering crowds. Some of the more enthusiastic subjects in the crowd waved the imperial flag of the two-headed Byzantine Eagle on a yellow background. Olga felt a surge of joy in her heart upon seeing crowds of people applauding her efforts. She now understood how it felt to be adored as the _matushka_ of Russia. However, her mother was not as well liked during her co-reign with her father.

The Standart yacht floated beside its dock, where officers and guards in ordered formation stood at the ready. The ship still looked majestic from a distance, with its freshly repainted and fixed hull gleaming a shiny imperial black in the sunlight. The figurehead, a brass two-headed eagle, shone like gold. Few other symbols of the Russian crown could be as iconic as the ship.

The cars came to a stop, and the Romanovs waved at the crowd. Maria blew kisses at the crowds while Anastasia smiled. They basked in the attention, feeling a sense of joy. For certain, their eldest sister had done her duty well so far. At least they would be able to live without fear of being tortured or assassinated.

The Romanovs, their relatives, and their selected servants crossed the gangway onto the _Standart_ , where the uniformed officers saluted their Tsarina and her relatives. Olga waved back at the crowds, hearing their shouts and cheers from afar.

Olga faced the officers. "Take us out of port, Captain Zelenetsky."

"Yes, Your Majesty," he replied, before stepping towards the officers.

The captain ordered the officers to move to their positions aboard the yacht while the Romanovs dispersed throughout the ship. Olga and Tatiana moved below deck, where an officer with familiar brown eyes approached them. Olga felt happier at the sight of him, feeling joy filling her heart.

"Mister Voronov, I am happy to see you again!"

"Did you miss me?" Pavel said.

The officer grinned wide with an unmistakable wink of his brown eyes. In that moment, the young Tsarina felt as if she were a young, carefree girl of seventeen years again. Her fears and responsibilities seemed to melt away. Nothing else seemed to matter except for spending time with the man she felt for. She did not know that she had instinctively ran her fingers over his white sailor gloves.

Tatiana cleared her throat. "My apologies for my interruption. I believe that you were going somewhere…"

"Thank you, Your Highness, for reminding me. I will see you again during my break hours, Olga Romanova," Pavel said, before continuing on.

Olga sighed as she watched her dashing officer walk out of her sight. One thought came to her mind. Her soon-to-be consort, Dmitri Pavlovich, would have a rivalry with Pavel for her affections. She hoped that they would not confront each other with fists and feet during the trip. It was all clear that the junior officer held strong feelings for her, but what would happen if she told him the bitter truth? That she could not associate anyone below her station?

"Are you feeling alright, Olya?" Tatiana asked, the concern evident in her tone.

"I do not know what words precisely tell what I am feeling. I like Pasha very much, but as you know… I cannot stay with him. He is far below my station," Olga said, the disappointment evident in her tone.

"That is true. I am certain that he has feelings for you as well. I wish that I could give you advice, but I have never been in love… yet."

"What do I do? If I tell him that I cannot be with him, I would break his heart."

"Although I have not been in love, I believe that it is better to be honest than to give false hopes for Mister Voronov. I know that is hard for you, but you may have to do that. If not, you would only hurt Mister Voronov even more."

"I understand why you want me to do such a thing… but any rejection from me would hurt him. If I stay with Pasha… I will only betray Mitya, who I am expected to court now."

"Then you must think about what would hurt less people. You are a sharp-minded Empress of Russia, Olya, I know that you can make the best decision for this issue," Tatiana said.

Her elder sister spent a moment considering the advice. " _Spasibo_ , Tatya. How about we go find Mashka and Nastya? They must need two more playmates!"

The two elder Romanov sisters went above deck again, and they noticed that the docks were gradually receding away from the ship. The journey had begun, and the royal family would be at sea for at least nine days, if the _Standart_ kept at max nautical speed for the entire trip. No Romanov had or would travel as far until now.

Olga looked around, and she spotted her two younger sisters leaning on the rails. She approached them. The younger two smiled as they looked at her, and their hair swayed in the sea breezes. Dressed in white dresses with decorative hems, they appeared like angels in the light: pure and majestic.

"Olya, I love the sea… just us and the calm winds and open skies. It is so beautiful out here, the waves sparkling, the hues of blue... I could paint this," Maria said.

"I love the sea too, Mashka. It reminds me of Papa and Mister Voronov."

"Your _dashing_ , _handsome_ officer?"

Olga looked at the horizon, closing her hand around the distant image of a cloud. "Yes… he is very handsome. Everytime I look into his hazel eyes, I feel as if I were at home, as if everything would be alright."

"I have seen photographs of him, and his nose reminds me of a long and pointy witch nose smashed in," Anastasia sniggered.

"Nastya! It is not as pointy as you think it is, and he is _handsome_!" Olga said, putting her hands on her hips.

Maria burst into laughter with her large blue eyes crinkling. Even Tatiana had her lip bent in an effort not to laugh. The _shvibzik_ had struck again. This trip would be very enjoyable for all of them.


	24. Heartache On The Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As much as Olga I of Russia loved her dear naval officer, she knew that it would never last. For the sake of her reign, she lets go.

_June 28, 1916_

"I believe that is Dover in the distance," Dmitri Pavlovich said, squinting at the land in the distance.

Olga looked over the railing, seeing the familiar white limestone cliffs. They seemed to almost shine under the late afternoon sun. A feeling of nostalgia filled her being, as she remembered her previous visit to England eight years ago. She was only thirteen years of age that time. Although the visit had only lasted four days, she left England with a very good impression of the country, as the British royal family had been friendly to her family.

"Yes… the King of England agreed in advance to allow the _Standart_ to pass, thanks to an early telegram to the British embassy. The embassy passed the message to King George V as expected," Olga said.

"Smart girl, always thinking ahead."

"Oh _please_ , it is only common sense."

Dmitri laughed. "What is common sense to you seems intelligent to me."

"When one passes through the waters of a foreign country, he or she must have permission to do so..." Olga said, sighing.

"Alright, alright, Your Majesty. I was only um… complimenting you."

"Oh… thank you for the compliment. Now, I believe that we must check on Mashka and Nastya."

Dmitri chuckled. "You can never keep your eyes off of them for long."

Both Tsarina and her fiance got off of their chairs before they began to walk to the covered sections of the deck. Officers and seamen saluted the royal couple-to-be, and the Tsarina and her fiance nodded at them. Upon arriving at the covered deck outside of the ship dining area, Dmitri spotted Anastasia and Maria roller skating. His sister, Maria Pavlovna, was roller skating not far behind her younger cousins. The older woman wore a wide grin on her face, looking radiant in the sun.

"I think that was them, along with my elder sister," the Grand Duke said.

"I know, Mitya. I have not yet experienced marital activities and a relationship, but I cannot help but feel for her… to have hopes for a marriage only to be ruined by neglect," Olga said in a hushed voice.

"Considering that we will be married within five years, I hope that we will not have to experience such an issue."

"Marriage is a topic for a later time. Even then, it is not all that it is said to be... hardly the result of love, but practicality. If so, we will not need to concern ourselves with such agonies of the heart. I do not know what to think about that. Should I feel relieved or..."

Olga let the sentence, one that would not be finished, hang in the air. Her fiance kept silent for moments beside her, staring at the distant landmass.

"I am aware that such a union between us would not be bound by love, but by necessity. You need a consort as Empress of Russia, and the throne needs… well, heirs and heiresses."

It took great willpower of the Empress to not shudder. She hoped to have a family in the future, yet with a man she did not love? She could not accept that with ease even if she would remain Russian by blood. Also, her unmarred and chaste upbringing under her mother left her quite ignorant of marital relations and the specifics of wedding nights. She allowed the unpleasant thought to fade away in the depths of her mind. It was not yet time. Her duty to bear a successor to the throne would come later.

Besides a slight repulsion to the thought of an arranged marriage, Olga felt another feeling as her thoughts drifted to a distant dream that she desired since the tender age of seventeen. To have her hand resting in the hand of a certain junior officer while she walked down a red carpet-

" _Nyet, that is only a fantasy, never to be, and sadly- never will be,_ " she thought, looking down at her clenched hands.

"Are you feeling well?" Dmitri Pavlovich asked, placing a hand on his fiance's hands.

"Oh, yes… I must talk with Tatiana. Do enjoy your time with your sister, Mitya."

Dmitri was not all convinced that Olga was fine, but he nodded anyway. The Grand Duke left his fiance alone to search for his sister. Now in solitude, she made her way below deck. She went through various corridors and rooms until she reached a certain door with a familiar marking on it: **Officer Quarters 2E.** Behind the door, she could hear laughter. She could smell the familiar odor of lit cigars in the air, which made her wrinkle her nose. Mustering her courage, she knocked on the door. The Empress of Russia knew that it was improper for her to go below deck without an escort. Oh, forget propriety!

Olga knocked on the door, looking left and right in the corridor to ensure that she was alone. Footsteps could be heard approaching the door. It opened, and there stood Pavel Voronov in his uniform. An unfamiliar officer sat on the carpeted floor, holding cards in one hand.

"Olga- Your Majesty!" the unknown officer said, standing up to salute her.

The Empress nodded to allow the officer to sit down. Pavel grinned at her. His warm brown eyes were focused onto her blue eyes, sending a thrill through the young Empress of Russia.

"Do you want me to escort you around the ship, Your Majesty?"

Olga spoke a cheerful yes before giggling like a schoolgirl.

"Would you like an embrace?" Pavel asked in a very soft tone.

Olga nodded her assent. In a near instant, Pavel gave her a brief embrace in his strong arms. A thrilling warmth filled the heart of the Empress of Russia. This was love, and it was a glorious sensation. She sighed in affection as Pavel chuckled. For the moment, she felt as if she were in a second home.

"My wise princess," Pavel whispered.

"You meant Empress, I presume?" Olga replied in a quiet tone.

"You will always be a princess to me… in all of her wisdom."

" _Oh, Pasha, if only you knew,_ " Olga thought when Pavel released her.

The other officer cleared his throat before speaking, "Sorry to interrupt, but I would like to introduce myself."

Olga turned to him. "You are welcome to do so, I know that you are the replacement for the previous bunkmate of Mister Voronov here, and I would like to become familiar with you."

"You may call me Mister Nagorny, Your Majesty," the officer said, giving a weak smile.

Olga noticed that the officer had his hands in his pockets and shifted his feet with unease. Perhaps the officer was nervous around her, she thought. Alternatively, he must have been quite eager to be on the _Standart_. No officer should fear her, but instead they should feel at ease around her.

"Be at ease, Mister Nagorny. I trust that you will display proper behavior and discipline as a part of the crew."

The officer relaxed his posture, loosening the tensed muscles in his shoulders. "May I also escort you as well?"

"Yes, you may. I shall speak with Rear-Admiral Lomen to see what role you will take… There is a chance that you may watch over one of my sisters later in your duties."

"Thank you, Your Majesty, Olga the First."

Olga chuckled. "No need to be overly formal, but I admire your enthusiasm. Now, I must see Rear Admiral Lomen."

She made her way above deck with the company of Pavel and Nagorny. She soon arrived at the bridge, which was painted a maroon red. The three of them climbed the flights of stairs to the highest level of the bridge where the Read Admiral stood. Upon sight of the Empress, the Rear Admiral saluted her. Entering the cabin beside her escorts, she kept silent for a moment.

"Would you like a brief overview of activities on this ship, Your Majesty?" the Rear Admiral said.

"Yes, and after the report, we can decide the role that Officer Nagorny will have," Olga replied.

Lomen told the Empress that the crew was well-behaved, and that none of them slacked in their duties. The news pleased her. Pavel and Nagorny felt relieved, as the Rear-Admiral was in a good mood. If not, he was a force to be feared thanks to his rough attitudes and disposition.

"That is good to hear. I would like Nagorny to be a _diadka_ for Maria once he has shown good behavior and performance in his duties for some time."

The Rear-Admiral stroked the stubble on his chin as he thought of his decision. Nagorny placed his hands in his pockets and wiggled his toes in his boots. He hoped that he would be allowed the honor of supervising one of the younger grand duchesses.

"I think he may, after he proves his discipline on this ship for two years," he said, looking at the new officer.

"Officer Nagorny, I have already assigned Officer Voronov as your superior. He is a very keen and helpful one, and he will show you the patrol movements around the ship later today. Any further questions?" Lomen added.

"None, sir!" Nagorny said.

"You may leave, Officer Voronov, Nagorny. I will see you, Your Majesty, during dinner."

Olga and her two escorting officers left the bridge. They looked from the high vantage point of the outer bridge floors, seeing the Little Pair roller skating on the sides of the _Standart_. Not far behind, Maria Pavlovna and Dmitri Pavlovich skated behind them. Officers and sailors were careful to avoid the four royals while they completed their tasks.

Olga made her way down the stairs, and she spotted Tatiana resting her arms on the starboard guardrails. The gray-blue eyes of the Grand Duchess held a pensive look into the distance.

"Is your sister alright? She seems preoccupied with something," Pavel asked as quiet as he could.

"I do not know, but I will check on Tatya. She must have been alone for quite some time," Olga replied.

"Do you require us to accompany you both?"

"Not at this moment. Stay here, Mister Voronov."

Olga went to a spot beside her sister, who acknowledged her presence with a raised eyebrow. She then remembered the words of her younger sister. She knew that she had to tell her beloved office that she could not be with him. Somehow, she could not find the courage to do so.

"You were with Mister Voronov… have you had the chance to tell him?" Tatiana asked in a low whisper.

"You ask the improbable, Tatya. I… I… have strong feelings for him, even if I cannot be with him." Olga said, shaking her head.

"The marriage to Cousin Mitya will happen. When it does, Mister Voronov will be crushed even if you do not tell him. I believe it is best to prepare him for that."

Olga glanced back as Pavel, who was chatting with Nagorny, pointing at a passing Russian destroyer ship. She returned her gaze at her sister, whose gray-blue eyes seemed to be pleading.

"I-"

"Please… you must. At least do not give the poor officer the wrong impression. Speak with sincerity and respect."

"Not at this moment. Yet, I have not decided when. Whether I do so, or do not, it still brings me agony."

"It is not my intent to cause you such agony… I only want to help."

"You do not need to _remind_ me again," Olga said, the bitterness seeping from her tone.

Tatiana, who was about to reply, closed her mouth. She sighed. Motivating her sister to confess the news would be difficult.

"May I at least accompany you?"

" _Da_ , Tatya."

Olga and Tatiana went to the two officers, who escorted them around the ship. They played board games together in the quarters, and spent much time becoming familiar with each other. A few hours later, dinnertime had arrived. By then, the _Standart_ had left the English Channel and reached the Atlantic Ocean.

(Line Break)

The moon rose in the darkening evening sky, but the commotion on the _Standart_ did not dwindle. Olga, her sisters, and her present relatives entered the yacht saloon before seven o'clock. Her grandmother, Maria Feodorovna, had arrived there long before. The aging former Tsarina of Russia gave a warm smile to her granddaughter, the current Empress of Russia. Her light blue Danish eyes seemed alight with happiness. Olga motioned for her escorts to take their seats, and they did so.

"My granddaughter, my little joy," she said, opening her arms toward the young Russian Empress.

"Grandmama," Olga said, stepping to her grandmother to hug her.

"Are you enjoying the company of your prince, dear?"

"Well… I suppose I do, but I do not yet love him."

Pavel opened his mouth in surprise, gaining the attention of his fellow new bunkmate. Realizing his mistake, Pavel shut his mouth and kept a stoic face. He could only watch his favorite former Grand Duchess, now Empress, speak with her grandmother about her _prince_. For the past few years, he had hardly seen his beloved Olga, and she had been courting the infamous _playboy_ Grand Duke rather than a _proper_ gentleman. A feeling rose up within him: jealousy. It was an ugly thing rising like yeast in flour within his heart. Still, he could not let his true feelings be known. As a nobleman of Voronov, he would act like one, and if so, he would accept the possibility of letting her go.

"... he is quite playful and humorous. He brings a smile to my face much of the time… unless one of his pranks goes too far. I am still uncertain of this whole dynastic marriage affair," the Empress said, glancing at Dmitri Pavlovich, who rolled his eyes.

"Do not worry about your upcoming match with little Mitya-"

"Hey, I am _not_ little!"

"You are decades younger than I, so _hush_ ," the Dowager Empress chided.

Once Dmitri Pavlovich went silent, Maria Feodorovna continued to whisper to her granddaughter. "Nevertheless, I first did not love my husband, your grandfather Alexander. But over time, my respect for him became fondness… and then love. I must tell you that not all loves are at first sight like that of your late father and mother…"

Pavel looked up, feeling surprised. His envy and feeling of betrayal dissipated, making way for hope. Was it possible for his feelings for her to be returned? He watched the rest of the officers and crew members enter the dining area. Not long afterward, they blessed the food. At once, the sounds of pleasant chatter filled the room, and Pavel could not help but look at Olga. She smiled at him, making his heart beat a bit faster. He could only wink at her in response, being careful not to be conspicuous.

Tatiana, who sat next to Olga, noticed the silent exchange between her sister and her dashing officer. She sighed and shook her head.

"Do not worry about much, dear. Let us enjoy our time together as a family," the Dowager Empress said to Tatiana.

Dmitri Ivanov, who sat on a table separate from the Romanovs, glanced at Anastasia, who was talking with her sister Maria. Upon making eye contact with Anastasia, Dmitri could feel his body tingle with excitement. Anastasia giggled with her sister.

"You like her very much," Anna Demidova said to the kitchen servant.

"I do, but only as a friend..." Dmitri said with a wavering tone.

"I wish that your friendship will remain strong for the years to come, Mister Ivanov."

" _Spasibo_ , Nyuta. Her Imperial Highness means very much to me."

Dinner passed by quickly. After everyone had finished, they celebrated a toast.

"To the glory and longevity of Russia," Olga said.

"Aye! Aye!"

Olga clinked her glass with that of her grandmother, then her sisters. Anastasia and Maria would taste wine for the first time. Anastasia made a funny face upon a few sips of wine, but Maria nodded in approval.

"Tastes like cough syrup," the youngest Grand Duchess muttered, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

"It is part alcohol, Nastya," Maria said before sipping again.

Two hours passed by as the Romanovs enjoyed their dinner. Olga looked at her fiance, Dmitri Pavlovich, who began to slur his words while speaking to Maria Pavlovna. The Empress felt embarrassed. A Romanov, drunk!

"Yeah… your s-sister's riiight..." the Grand Duke slurred, pounding his glass on the table.

Tatiana took the glass away from the now intoxicated Grand Duke, who voiced his dissent. She cleared her throat.

"Coome oon, miss... give me back my glaass."

"Excuse my rudeness, but please _hush_. You are making a fool of yourself," Tatiana said, scowling at Dmitri Pavlovich.

Olga excused herself from the table, and Tatiana got up as well. Both of them could not tolerate the antics of their fellow Grand Duke any longer.

"Officer Voronov, Officer Nagorny, please escort us to our quarters."

"As you wish, Your Majesty," both officers said.

Both of the officers escorted the Grand Duchess and Empress of Russia under the moonlight. Once they had reached the stairs to the sections below deck, Olga stopped walking.

"Nagorny, watch over my sister. I must speak to Officer Voronov."

Nagorny nodded. Tatiana nodded at her sister, but for a different reason. She hoped that Pasha would take the news well. Once Olga was some distance away, she began to speak.

"Pasha… I… I..."

"My sweet Romanova, say what you have to say."

"I… I do not know what to say."

"You are brave, Olga. I know about your courtship with his Imperial Highness Dmitri Pavlovich. Is it true that your grandmother plans to marry you with him?"

After a moment of agonizing silence, Olga replied. "Y- yes."

"Do you want it?"

"I do not know!"

"Why?"

"Because- Because I- I love you very much yet I know that we cannot be together-"

"I know. But at least we can enjoy our mutual company while it lasts, my wise princess. You may lose your love for me, but please… do not forget about me."

Olga felt a tear roll down her cheek.

"Pasha… my sunshine…"

"Yes, I will do _anything..._ _anything_ you ask."

Pasha kept silent, looking with his saddened brown eyes. He knew what would happen in a few years, but there was no need to say it again.

"As the very first one who took my heart, will you take the honor of my first kiss? No one is watching us…" Olga whispered.

"Are you certain?" Pavel said, his brown eyes glistening with tears in the moonlight.

The officer looked back, and Tatiana and Nagorny were walking back to the yacht saloon. Olga nodded, and she lifted her face up to stare into those hazel brown eyes once more. Even the hardened and well-disciplined officer could not keep his composure, as his eyebrows were scrunched together in an effort not to cry. The Empress of Russia parted her lips ever so slightly, closing her eyes.

Pavel gave a chaste peck on the pink lips of the Empress in front of him. A warm feeling filled their bodies. It sent sparks of passion through them, and they kissed again for a moment. So this was love… but one that was never meant to be. Both of them knew it, even as every fiber of their bodies screamed for more contact. With great effort, they pulled away from each other. Olga could no longer hold back the heartache from bursting out as tears. She burst out a sob, falling into the embrace of her dashing officer for what seemed like the last time…

"I- I am s-sorry… so sorry…" Olga whispered.

"It is alright. At least you will find happiness once again with your husband-to-be. We will find a way to go on," Pavel said.

In that moment, they held each other as if nothing else mattered...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one thing that I realized that would stay constant: the fact that Olga could not be with Pavel Voronov due to their differing stations. Still, the whole first kiss thing was one irresistible plot bunny! Hope my romantic readers enjoyed it.
> 
> For now, Olga and Dmitri Pavlovich will remain a dynastical pairing. At most, they are only friends in a friendly sibling-rivalry-like dynamic. They will fall for each other, but not yet.


	25. Arrival to America

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At long last, the Russian Royal Family arrives at the New York City ports. Their tour of the wonders of America has just begun.

_July 8, 1916_

Even ten days after that night, Olga struggled to keep herself composed and calm whenever she encountered Pavel Voronov. Those hazel brown eyes of his would glance at her every so often. Her cornflower blue eyes would glance at him in a similar manner. Their gazes were that of longing and sadness. As much as she wanted it to be, they were not meant to be together. Every day she lived did not feel the same as before. She could not describe how her life had felt so different.

It was easy to act casual enough to fool the officers, but not Pavel. Neither would that thin facade convince her sisters.

A few hours before lunch, Olga was in her work room, which once belonged to her late father. No longer did the memories of her parents hurt very much.. First, she had lost her beloved parents. Scarcely four years after that horrid night, she had to lose her first love. What else would she lose?

She could only question herself about why a Romanov must bear such tragedies. _Because you are a Romanov_ , her common sense replied. Who else would be anointed by God and church as the ruler and keeper of Holy Russia? She buried her face into her hands, feeling torn. She loved her fellow Russians, loved her nation, yet she hated how the old life that she once cherished was fading away.

Yes, she still had her sisters. Yes, she still had her relatives such as her dear grandmother on her father's side. She even had a fiance, even if he would accompany her for dynastic purposes. _You are never alone,_ her rationale repeated.

It had been a while since she felt uncertain and burdened by the great responsibilities as Empress. Now that she had no distractions, her reality came crashing down on her. It seemed almost unbelievable: a twenty-one year old ruler of Russia during a time of modernization. She understood how her monarchy worked through its complicated laws and policies. She knew what her people wanted. Yet she was a young woman just past her late teenage years doing things that only adults seemed to do. The one factor that made it possible for the young Empress to achieve so much within four years was her intellect. That was how she could avert crises and make action with such skill and precision.

So much had been accomplished, yet she still felt unsatisfied. Why? She had the wealth and power of the Russian throne and a nation that began to love her, but those things did not satisfy every want she had. The missing want seemed to be everywhere. She felt it when she saw her late parents kiss. She felt it when her distant relatives talked about their spouses.

Olga, for the first time, was left wanting. She wondered if she could find love in her fiance, Dmitri Pavlovich. However, he was free-spirited, fun-loving, and the type of person to jump scare her. Well, she did not enjoy it as much as he did. She was more straight-laced, proper, and even more devout than him. They would never work together, even in an arranged marriage. Or would they? Regardless, she would soon find herself tied to him through an arranged marriage. Her family willed it. Her people willed it. Would it hurt to try to make the best of such an arrangement?

* * *

In his quarters, a groggy Dmitri Pavlovich groaned and opened his eyes to see sunlight shining through the cabin window. Beside his bed, a metal pot rested. The revolting stench of vomit drifted from the pot to assault his sense of smell. His head pounded with a headache, feeling like it would crack into halves. His body felt weary from a night of drinking and festivities.

The memories of the previous night rushed back to his consciousness, making his head throb even more. He remembered having quite a few drinks over the course of a night. The rest of the events were a confusing blur of sights and sounds, but he did remember being dragged to his room by officers and his sister. Even one of the Grand Duchesses, perhaps Tatiana, told him to _shut up_. He silently promised himself that he would make a comeback later.

Another detail of the night before came to his attention. Why did Olga leave dinner earlier? Dmitri Pavlovich tried to remember why, and the officer she left with seemed familiar. The large pointed nose and dark brown buzz-cut hair gave the identity away: Pavel Voronov. That was no surprise, as his fiance had told him of her feelings for the officer. She did not make a direct confession, but the Russian Grand Duke knew.

The thought of following the will of his relatives to be married off to Olga seemed unfeasible from a romantic perspective. He knew that she was his soul opposite: devout and proper despite her temper. On the other hand, he was, plainly put, a playboy. Even more, her heart was for another man. Despite his well-reasoned doubts, he was open to other thoughts. People with opposite or different personalities could find happiness or mutual respect together, so why not him and Olga? He doubted that he would fall in love, but he hoped that he would be able to finally find the companionship he had been yearning for.

He had lost his father and mother. He had lost his foster father, Grand Duke Sergei. No, he could not live alone. He lived among close family and friends, but he slept alone at night. And now, here he was, hungover and alone on a ship thousands of miles from home.

The young Grand Duke gave a bitter laugh. "What have I gotten myself into?" he muttered.

" _A mess, obviously… I am immensely lost… yearning… searching… for what? I just drift through high royal life with its many pleasures and indulgences… and it is still not enough,_ " he thought.

He thought of Olga again. She seemed happy for much of the time before the trip, but she had been disturbed and even unhappy on some occasions. At least he was not alone in his suffering and unease, filling the shoes of a long-dead monarch. Perhaps he should change something in his life, but he did not know what it was. Neither did he know the exact action to take.

He sat upright in his cabin bed before standing up. Looking in his mirror, he frowned. His eyes were reddened with irritated blood vessels. His hair was a mess. For the future consort of a Russian Empress, he looked horrible.

" _Shit._ I look much like a madman," he muttered, reaching over to his cabinet.

After taking his new clothing, he began to dress himself with his spare royal suit. Perhaps the _Standart_ had almost reached its destination, so he would have to maintain his fine appearance. He then wore a white sash over his suit before combing his unkempt hair.

Dmitri Pavlovich looked into the mirror again. At least he looked decent, despite the reddened eyes. With one last look back at his quarters, he opened the door. Upon stepping outside, he opened his mouth in awe. Before him, the clouds had parted in the sky to make way for sunlight. The sun shone on the aquamarine hued waters as if they were crystal. He squinted into the distance past the Russian destroyer ships, and spotted the distant silhouettes of skyscrapers.

"Welcome to New York City, Mitya," a familiar voice said behind him.

Dmitri Pavlovich whirled around in surprise. His heart beat faster for a brief moment. Olga had returned the favor… by surprising him.

"What- Oh, it is only you," he said, sighing in relief.

"It seems that you fear your fiance and wife to be…" Olga said.

"No, no! I was just surprised."

Olga looked up into the blue eyes of her fiance, scrutinizing every fiber of his being. "Admit it, Mitya."

Dmitri could not say no. She had given him a slight scare, and this time, he was the prey. Stubborn as she was, the Empress would not back down.

" _Fine_ … I admit that I am often helpless under your intellectual might."

"No need to flatter me, I am not one to boast. It is not what a good woman of Christ would do, as my Mama would say."

Dmitri decided to change the subject. He felt embarrassed, and he also felt impressed that she had prevailed once again. But he would be almost masochistic to admit such a thing to his wife to be.

"We are in American waters, I presume?"

"Well, yes. I forgot to mention earlier that you have managed to make yourself look presentable for the American President," Olga said, looking over Dmitri Pavlovich.

Dmitri Pavlovich nodded, looking at the approaching skyline of the metropolis before them. There, he could see a large statue with a coppery hue under the sunlight. The sea breezes made the dark blonde hair of his fiance wave in the wind, making her almost attractive. Her hair shone under the sunlight like the metal of the distant statue: the Statue of Liberty. He averted his gaze. He was simply not ready for romance at the time. Dmitri Pavlovich and Olga then noticed their relatives coming towards them.

Anastasia and Maria chattered with excitement, pointing at the Statue of Liberty and various buildings including the distant Woolworth Building. Followed by Tatiana and some officers, the Dowager Empress and Maria Pavlovna each held a Brownie camera, hoping to immortalize the moment forever in a photograph.

"Here is your camera, my dear child," Marie Feodorovna said, holding out the camera to Anastasia.

Anastasia jumped up and down with excitement and shining blue eyes. She took the camera and thanked her grandmother. Oh, this would make a splendid picture in the photobooks!

Anastasia stepped back, while Maria smiled. Maria laid back on the guardrails and savored the sea breezes that blew her brunette hair around. She was posing for this picture, and this one would be just right.

"Three, two, one... zero!" Anastasia counted, before pressing the camera button.

Anastasia looked around, and she saw her kitchen boy running to her.

"Dmitri, quick! I want all of us to be in a picture!" she yelled.

"What a splendid idea," Olga said while Dmitri and Tatiana nodded.

An officer received the other camera, and the Romanov daughters along with Dmitri Pavlovich took their positions facing the camera. The servant kitchen boy stayed behind , not wanting to disrupt their moment. However, his beloved Grand Duchess would not allow him to stay behind.

"Come here, Mister Ivanov," she commanded, looking at him with those beautiful cornflower blue eyes.

"But-"

"I want you with _me_!"

"Uh… okay," Dmitri said, hesitantly stepping to his dearest Russian Grand Duchess.

"Ready?" the officer asked.

The Empress, her fiance, her sisters, and the kitchen boy all voiced their assent. The camera clicked, and the officer nodded. The picture would take time to develop, and it could wait. Now, the _Standart_ was fast approaching the docks.

Officers and sailors of the ship staff rushed past the Romanovs and servants. It was not long before the Romanovs turned around to wave at the gathering crowds on the waterfront. Chattering and cheering filled the air. Some of the people in the crowd, amazed at the sight of such the infamous and majestic royal yacht, waved back.

Eventually, the ship stopped at a dock with a long red and white carpet. On the carpet, flanked by soldiers and officers, stood a tall man in a black suit and tan hat. Olga and Dmitri Pavlovich looked down at the man: President Woodrow Wilson of the United States.

Woodrow Wilson looked up with his green-blue eyes at the yacht. He had talked much with his advisors before allowing the Romanovs to tour his nation. Although the Romanovs were overall monarchist, they were of a close ally and potential trading partner. For a week, the cultural and political differences would not matter. All that needed to be done was to give the Romanovs good impressions of America.

Yes, the Russian throne had not always helped its people, but with the rise of a new Empress came numerous changes in the state of the autocratic empire. He could only wonder what a future with a strong and stable Russia would bring. He waited until the gangway was lifted and linked with the decks of the _Standart_. The Romanovs and their servants went down the gangway with well-paced steps, careful not to take a misstep. Leading them were Olga I of Russia and Dmitri Pavlovich.

"Your Majesty," Wilson said, holding out his right hand.

"President Wilson," Olga said, shaking the hand of the president.

"I am glad that you and your family made it here without any trouble. It is an honor to meet you in person."

"I could say the same. Some in my family have wanted to visit this prominent country, including my fiance here, Dmitri Pavlovich of Russia."

"Welcome to America, Mister Pavlovich," Wilson said, facing the Russian Grand Duke.

Wilson gave a mild smile, holding out his hand. Dmitri Pavlovich had just done a handshake with Woodrow Wilson, and he could not help smiling. He had heard much about the American President and his nation, and he looked forward to his brief time in the United States of America.

"Come, the car awaits," Wilson said.

The Romanovs and their few loyal attendants followed the American President. The future royal couple, Olga and Dmitri, took their seats in the Ford car. The sleek curves of the car with the polished, darkly-painted exterior seemed to almost give an aura of power and prestige. The skyscrapers towered higher than even the tallest Russian cathedrals, palaces, or buildings. There was no doubt that the United States of America was a rising power on the world stage. Olga felt a rising feeling that she could hardly describe. It was pure awe. Someday, she would have foreigners tour Holy Russia and feel the same.

Olga and Dmitri Pavlovich sat behind the driver, Woodrow Wilson, and his second wife. Behind them, the rest of the Romanovs sat in two other cars. All three cars departed the docks, with the news reporters snapping pictures on their Brownie cameras and even running after the cars in vain. Down Whitehall Street, the escort continued to go. Around the barricades, crowds clamored and peeked from behind, as officers kept them at bay.

The escort continued on to a certain New York restaurant that still stood even after about a half century: P.J Clarke's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, I wanted to get the ball rolling for Olga and Dmitri Pavlovich. They have not yet developed any feelings for each other, but at least they have a genuine need for the love to come. Their romance will be a slow burn, but once it ignites, it will get very steamy! I already have a first draft of a semi-sequel for A Dynasty's Destiny in the works. The entire alternate history saga I have in mind will be a duology or trilogy, I'm still thinking about it.
> 
> Dmitri's hesitance to take a picture with Anastasia is a slight nod to the class-oriented mindset of the 1910s.
> 
> Some Trivia: The Woolworth Building was the tallest building in the world before the Empire State Building (which will be built anyways during the Great Depression).
> 
> Woodrow Wilson will be his usual progressive and well-educated self. He will say some controversial opinions later on since he held controversial views on racial issues. After the presidency of WIlson passes, I will look into his presidential successor for the 1920s. About the P.J Clarke restaurant choice, I just wanted the royals to literally have a taste of American food. Despite the creative liberties, I will do my best to make the events plausible!


	26. Touring East America

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Romanovs and the Wilson family tour various American landmarks together, and they come to know and respect each other.

After its much accompanied cruise through Third Avenue, the escort reached a small red-brick building with a metal framed facade. Its large glass windows shone in the afternoon sun, as if they were beacons attracting patrons to the infamous American restaurant. In gold-painted letters engraved into the top of the metal facade, the name  **P.J Clarke’s** could be seen. The drivers stopped their vehicles to allow their prestigious passengers, the Romanovs and Wilsons, to step out. The few Romanovs that had come numbered just seven: Marie Feodorovna, Dmitri Pavlovich, Maria Pavlovna, and the Romanov daughters.

“I’ll be honest with you, Your Majesty. This is a special place of genuine American cuisine… the one and only P.J Clarke’s. It has been serving their meals since 1884, almost half a century,” the American president said, looking back with a smile.

“It may not look like much, but you will enjoy this  _ tasteful _ introduction to America,” Margaret Wilson said, giving the Russian Tsarina a sly smile.

Olga laughed. “That was a funny pun, Miss Margaret. I am certain that my fiance would find that funny as well...”

Dmitri Pavlovich scoffed, before being elbowed by Olga. The Grand Duke had a sense of humor, but it was not focused on cheap puns. He looked at Margaret Wilson with a forced smile, as upsetting the American presidential family was  _ not _ a desired outcome for him.

“I know that you are not actually amused, Mister Pavlovich. There is no need to smile,” Margaret said, with an intense stare from her brown eyes.

“I can see that you have been told off,” Maria Pavlovna whispered to her brother, holding back a snicker.

The Russian Grand Duke was speechless. His mouth was open, but no words escaped it. He had always prided himself as a master of good or even attractive appearances, but this American woman had read him through his outside act. Nor did she seem to fall for his masculine charms- well, he did not exert enough effort. Perhaps he would find a way to get even with this upstart woman. This would truly be a notable clash of wills and minds.

“ _ You win this round, Miss Margaret Wilson… but no one ever manages to beat me, _ ” he thought, as his mouth bent in a very slight smile, almost unseeable to the untrained eye.

As soon as the Wilsons and Romanovs stepped through the double doors, the waiters made welcoming bows to their special patrons. The waiters stepped aside to allow the restaurant owner to step forward. He was none other than Patrick J. Clarke, owner of one of the more prominent New York City restaurants.

“Thank you, Mister Clarke, for accepting the arrangements. All of the planning has very much paid off,” Woodrow Wilson said, looking at the fresh food on the tables.

“I am very honored to have you, Mister President, here… with your family and the Romanovs here. I do hope that all of you will enjoy whatever my establishment has to offer!” the owner said, widely grinning with his well-cleaned teeth.

“Very well, Mister Clarke,” the president said.

Patrick nodded, allowing his customers to find and take seats with the assistance of the waiters. The Romanov siblings sat with the Dowager Empress and the few servants. Around the adjacent table, the Wilsons sat across from Olga and Dmitri of Russia. Olga smiled. The glasses had been filled with aged Spanish wine or iced tea. The plates had varieties of sandwiches, burgers, and salads all freshly made. At least the Americans had planned this entire arrangement well, she thought.

Olga disagreed with the more casual attitudes of the Americans about drinking alcoholic beverages. Despite the gap in cultural norms, she would have to tolerate their customs for the time being. Again, she still respected the Americans for their determination to improve their nation with bounds and leaps. Their cause, providing a fair republic where everyone can prosper, was a noble one.

She picked up the burger with both hands, taking a small bite. For the first sandwich she had, it was definitely noteworthy. The meat had been well-cooked to medium rare, with the bread buns toasted to a crisp light brown. As the finishing touch, there was melted American cheese and certain vegetables in it.

“This is a very filling and delicious dish, Cousin Olishka,” Dmitri Pavlovich spoke.

“Definitely it is. The beef is very well cooked,” Olga replied.

The future royal couple of Russia had lunch with the presidential family, and they soon began to converse. President Wilson began to talk of his childhood in Georgia, and Olga became interested. She gently tilted her head to one side, gazing with her eager blue eyes. Her interest only grew when he mentioned his higher education in Davidson College and Princeton University. It pleased her to know that the president was not just well educated, but a sincere and devout man.

“A member of the Phi Kappa Psi… is that a sort of social circle for students?” she asked.

“Yes, I remember much about it. Think of it as the academic elite all joined in an organized circle for the sake of their excellence. That is the best I can explain that and my younger years. Now, I am curious as to how you grew up with your late parents,” Wilson said.

Olga remained silent for a moment. President Woodrow Wilson wore an expression of concern, wrinkling his forehead.

“You do not have to speak of the subject, Your Majesty, if it is uncomfortable to mention.”

“Not at all, I am conflicted over what to mention first.”

After Wilson drank from his cup of tea, he spoke again. “Perhaps you may speak of your childhood teachers?”

“Well, I could mention my private tutoring in the English and French languages. My sisters and I all had the same two tutors: Mister Gibbs and Mister Pierre.”

“Ah, the languages of Great Britain, and of romance, respectively.”

Dmitri Pavlovich sipped from his cup of tea, giving Olga an amused smile. “Do not forget to mention me.”

“You may sometimes be an annoyance, but I cannot imagine a life without you as a fellow Romanov,” Olga said.

Margaret Wilson chuckled. Dmitri raised an eyebrow, as if to dare the eldest Wilson daughter to challenge him further. She responded by crossing her arms and shrugging. Then Woodrow Wilson whispered a rebuke into the ear of his eldest daughter. She stopped crossing her arms, and feigned a smile. Still, she secretly disliked the Grand Duke. For the rest of the visit, she would have to place her feelings aside.

“Go on, Your Majesty,” the president said.

“Oh, where do I start? There are many subjects I would enjoy speaking about… well, I could speak about my tutors. They are on a hiatus from tutoring my sisters, and are staying back in Russia. I am certain that they are men of good character, President Wilson.”

“I would like to hear of them.”

“The first one that comes to my mind is my English tutor, Sidney Gibbs. I found him as a very educated and genteel man, and he even helped with my political education along with my father. I remember reading _The Prince_ , and even some of the writings of John Locke. My father was reluctant to give me writings about certain concepts… _social contract_ and other things, but I was adamant about that. Either I would get a book I wanted to read, or I would nag him until I did…”

Dmitri listened to his fiance chat with the American president of her childhood, excluding the Livadia Palace Raid of 1912. She spoke instead of her happiest memories with her sisters, such as their summer trips to the Crimea. She also spoke of her tutors and governesses: Mister Pierre, Mister Gillard, Miss Demidova, and Miss Shura, her childhood supervisor. After she finished, Wilson nodded, and then rested his chin on his hands, deep in thought.

“A very different upbringing than mine, but interesting to hear. Were you close with your relatives besides your parents?” Wilson said.

“Absolutely, President Wilson,” Olga replied.

Dmitri Pavlovich cleared his throat. “If you do not mind, Olya, may I speak of  _ my _ childhood?”

Olga shook her head. “ _ No _ .”

“But-”

“ _ Not yet _ , Mitya.”

Dmitri bit back a retort. Of course not. Now was a moment for Olga. His time in the spotlight would come later. Looking at Margaret, Dmitri caught a glimpse of a smirk. This annoyed the Grand Duke.  _ Upstart woman _ , he thought.

* * *

After a filling and delicious American lunch, the presidential family toured New York City with the Russian royal family. They went along the major streets of downtown New York City, viewing various landmarks. First, they viewed the infamous Wall Street, Woolworth Building, and other prominent landmarks such as the Flatiron building, the first skyscraper. They then drove by Central Park. There, journalists, photographers, and the park goers crowded near the Romanovs and their entourage just to see them.

“Oh my! We are certainly receiving plenty of attention,” Margaret exclaimed, looking around with wide brown eyes.

“Do not worry, they are only excited to see the Russians. I know that they think differently than us, but we must respect them in order for our great nation, America, to prosper in trade.”

“What about the lower, working class citizens? Would they still approve of their visit?”

“Daughter, I made sure beforehand that most Americans from  _ all _ classes would approve of the visit. Random polls were made throughout every major city in the country, from the Eastern Seaboard here to the West. Around seventy-three percent approved.”

Satisfied with her answer, Margaret nodded. “I see, Father. I must be honest, the Russian Empress strikes me as older than her years. To be only twenty-one and rule an entire empire seems strange to me.”

“I know, daughter, but we cannot expect other nations to work the same as ours. It is a matter of culture and traditions, perhaps even older than ours.”

Within the car behind the presidential vehicle, Anastasia sat beside Maria and her much adored kitchen servant. The comfortable seats and the company of her closest sister allowed her to feel at ease. If not for the hot weather, she would have been more content. Anastasia fanned herself with a large hat, wondering when they would be given a place to stay.

“It is too warm here!” Maria said, fanning herself with her own hat.

“You may have to endure this for another few hours, Mashka,” Anastasia said, smiling.

Maria groaned, closing her eyes. Dmitri, the kitchen servant, chuckled.

“Try not to move. Moving yourself only makes you feel hotter,” Dmitri suggested.

“Mister Ivanov is right, little sister,” Olga said, looking back from the front passenger seat.

Maria could only nod, as the heat made her too drowsy.

The escort soon drove over the Brooklyn Bridge, and the Russian Royals were fascinated even more. The Americans were quite advanced for a new country, with large feats of infrastructure such as that suspension bridge. Nowhere in Russia did such types of bridges exist.

The escort drove on various highways, passing various towns around New York City. Soon, the beginning urban sprawl gave way to rural grasslands and forests. They then stopped at Philadelphia, where the famous Independence Hall stood. After the cars were refueled, it was the next stop for the Romanovs. It was a Georgian-style building made of red brick and white painted columns. Its bell tower towered a story or two above the main building, making it appear outstanding. Olga looked at the building with a solemn gaze, her eyes distant in thought.

The Russian Empress had read some books about the strange, captivating land of America during her childhood. She remembered one thing about the building in front of her: it was where the original founders of America had signed the Declaration of Independence from Britain. Also, those men long ago had created the American Constitution there. It was only appropriate to call the building the birthplace of the United States of America. There, the fire of western democracy had been lit.

Olga, being an autocrat, disagreed with some ideas such as “power to the people”, but she admired the American ideals of fairness and giving the people a say. She had allowed public polls back in Russia to know the needs of her people. The Okhrana also gave her valuable information about the security of Russia. She could not imagine reinstating the Duma yet, but she still considered doing so.

Few citizens had gone outside in the warm weather, preferring to stay indoors. This allowed the Romanovs and the presidential family to both visit the Independence Hall. They saw the room where the American Constitution had been signed, with its long table and old wooden chairs sitting dormant. All of the Romanovs kept silent as they toured the historical building, which almost seemed like a sacred cathedral.

At last, Olga and Dmitri Pavlovich spotted a large bell with dark green tarnish. She widened her eyes. It was the infamous Liberty Bell that had rung for the public reading of the Declaration of Independence.

“Here it is, Your Majesty. The symbol of what we fight for,” Wilson said, in a hushed tone, as his family and guards put their hands together in respect for the Bell.

“I know that our nations are very different, but I respect your traditions as you have respected mine. My people are traditional, strong, and patriotic… much like yours, President Wilson. I believe that our great nations can find friendship and strength together,” Olga spoke, smiling at the president.

“I admire America very much like Olga does. To have so many different peoples in these borders, yet so unified!” Dmitri Pavlovich exclaimed.

The American President smiled back. “America is like a wondrous party, my Russian friends, where all can partake in the fruits of freedom, liberty, and justice. We may have room for improvements for our great society, but there is always hope ahead.”

Wilson turned back to the aging Dowager Empress. “And you, Your Imperial Highness, are very much respected in my eyes. You were beloved by your people, and I have heard that you attempted to stand up for the protestors in Russia?”

“Oh… I remember doing so long ago. My late husband Alexander III was very strict in his family and reign. And, I was his very opposite in some aspects. I was more lenient and open to my people. Now the torch has been passed to my eldest granddaughter, and I am so, so proud of her,” the Dowager Empress said, her brown eyes shining with joy.

The president nodded. “For good reason. She is truly a  _ star of the north _ , as Voltaire once said of Catherine the Great.”

Olga giggled with joy, yet a slight embarrassment. “I am only a simple woman serving her homeland and her people, Mister President.”

“Humble in heart and well-rounded in mind. I recall that the Apostle Paul was an educated man of his time, and lived humbly. You slightly remind me of him.”

“He is one of my favorite saints along with St. Olga of Kiev.”

“Interesting, but I think that we may save this conversation for our meeting in Washington D.C.”

“That is fine, I am looking forward to our negotiations there.”

“Trust my word, you will not be disappointed,” the president said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dmitri Pavlovich, being more of a down-to-earth and playful person, would not sit well with the spiritual and proper Margaret Wilson (at least I think she was like that based on the few articles I found). I could not resist writing their clashes! That being said, I am considering what I said earlier about not releasing the spinoff. If any of you all want to have a peek at it, let me know. The spinoff will cover the alternate 1940s in this timeline along with the new generation of Romanovs.


	27. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A treaty is signed, and a romance blooms.

_ July 8, 1916 _

_ Washington D.C _

“Finally, here is the White House,” Wilson said, giving a mild smile at the young Empress.

“Oh, it looks wonderful! I have often wanted to see it in person,” Olga replied.

Tatiana, who sat behind Olga, nodded. She looked with a raised eyebrow at the white, Georgian style facade. Despite the fact that America was a republic, the White House faintly reminded her of the house of a Russian noble. The irony seemed so clear to her that she could not resist smiling.

The presidential car soon came to a halt in front of the White House. Besides the other two escort cars with presidential guards and some soldiers, there were no other cars with the guests. For the safety of the extended Romanov family and their servants, the other two cars with their escorts had been redirected to a Washington D.C hotel. There, the royal relatives would be guarded. For convenience, all of the arrangements had been planned in advance long before the trip.

This was not a problem for Olga, and she had to admit that she would remain at ease without her fiance. She had noticed the signs of the tensions between Dmitri Pavlovich and Margaret Wilson, the eldest daughter of Wilson. Of course that would happen. Margaret was more proper and passive, yet Dmitri was more free-spirited and humorous in comparison to the icy lady.

Olga took a deep breath, as she stepped out of the car along with the presidential family. Tatiana followed her closely behind, hoping that nothing dramatic would happen given the constant bickering between Dmitri Pavlovich and Margaret Wilson throughout the ride. A glance at the face of the American president made it clear that he was relieved.

Wilson led his family along with Olga and Tatiana past two rows of U.S Marines. The president did not hurry his course into his house, as he had to salute each navy-blue suited marine. The marines stood still with their straight, rigid posture, and each saluted marine placed down their Winchester rifles in a single, fluid motion. Olga felt impressed. She liked the discipline and conduct shown by the American officials and guards. Her late father had always told her of the importance of discipline: a necessity for the government and the military. She still missed her father, but the wounds had long since healed, leaving scars in the form of memories.

President Wilson kissed his second wife before going separate ways from her and their eldest daughter. Olga also told Tatiana to wait in another suite. The two leaders then went into a meeting room in the White House, where the Russian ambassador sat, waiting for his Empress. Olga then sat across from Wilson, and she hoped that the negotiations would go well. She did not know the minds of the Americans as well as she did for her people. With the mediator being George Petrovich Bakhmeteff, ambassador of the Russian Empire, she could succeed in mending the relations between Russia and the United States.

“Your Majesty,” the ambassador greeted, bowing before Olga.

“Ambassador Bakhmeteff,” Olga greeted back.

“It is good to see that everyone here is at ease. Shall we begin?” Wilson said.

“Certainly, Mister Wilson,” Olga spoke.

The four of them took their seats, and began to unpack their documents. Olga was handed the final treaty draft from the American President and Congress, and she widened her eyes as she flipped through the  _ pages _ of the treaty. There were some parts that seemed familiar to the Empress, as they were derived from the first letter by the American President. Otherwise, the other portions of the treaty specified the exact details of  _ how  _ the treaty would be implemented into policy. There were exact guidelines on what tariff percentages would apply to each type of industry and other types of guidelines were written down. The fine, granular detail seemed much for even the intelligent Empress to absorb.

“I must read over this treaty, I would prefer to understand it. I want to know what exactly will happen to my people when this comes into effect.”

“You are welcome to,” Wilson said, as he opened his briefcase to reveal more documents and a pen.

The President of the United States took out a pen, and offered it to the Russian ambassador to America. The ambassador obliged. Olga spoke with her ambassador about the treaty whenever she encountered a verbose passage, which sometimes happened. After an hour, the White House servants offered the two leaders tea and food, which they happily accepted.

Another two hours passed, and Olga read over the terms of dissolution for the treaty. The terms of dissolution spelled out the consequences for Russia if it withdrew from the treaty: the possible increase of American tariffs and less trade of manufactured American goods to Russia. Thankfully, the American business factories in Russia would certainly be subject to the Russian labor laws. At the very least, the workers and the consumers would be satisfied with their safety and the future influx of American goods and services.

Olga thought for minutes, considering every part of the treaty and its possible effects. The outsourcing of American factories to Russia seemed to help American companies by reducing their labor costs and allowing them to sell their goods in a new market. For Russia, the land fees on the factories would provide extra revenue for the government, and the introduction of common automobiles would help modernize her empire. However, the more competitive American businesses would stamp out Russian businesses. To combat this, Olga knew she had to create anti-trust legislation.

“I worry that the native businesses in my country will be outcompeted by your country’s businesses. Does the treaty allow me to easily regulate their practices on my land?”

Wilson rested his head on his chin, thinking of an appropriate response. “The treaty is lenient to both sides. We both lower our tariffs and limits on our trading. Of course, the treaty does have consequences for withdrawal, but regulation does not count as withdrawal. From a personal view, I understand the necessity of laws against trusts.”

Olga glanced at the treaty. “I suppose that we have an agreement.”

The Empress took a deep breath, and she hovered the point of her pen over the treaty. Was it truly beneficial? She contemplated the reasons again, and everyone of them seemed beneficial to Russia. Well, so be it, she thought.

Olga signed her name upon the last page of the treaty. She handed it to President Woodrow Wilson, who signed it as well. The American president stood up from his chair, stretching his arms. His now asleep legs tingled with numbness, as did those of the Empress and her ambassador.

“Allow my staff and I to prepare a transcript of the treaty to be sent to the Russian Embassy and its representatives, so that the terms will be communicated to your placeholder. Then, once you and your family return to your country, you may begin to implement the treaty into your domestic policies,” Wilson said, giving the smile of a weary yet satisfied man.

“I will, Mister Wilson. It has been a wonderful experience to be here, and to sign that treaty. I believe that this will definitely benefit our two great countries  _ very  _ much,“ Olga replied.

* * *

Anastasia laid down beside her sister Maria, who was reading an American fashion magazine. Sitting on the other bed in the hotel room were the Dowager Empress and Anna Demidova, talking about their experiences with the young Grand Duchesses.

“This Sears Roebuck Catalog has many offers! Look at all of these beautiful dresses!” Maria said.

“I am tired of wearing these boring pastel blouses and plain white skirts… perhaps that one would suit me much, much better!” Anastasia said, pointing to one picture in the catalog.

“Nastya, that almost looks like swimwear!” her sister exclaimed, gasping.

“And since when were you the proper one? You are the more romantic of us, and I thought that you would understand as someone who wants a good gentleman… ”

“It is not like that. But why would you wear such clothing if you are not looking for a handsome prince?”

“I would like to be a free woman when I am older, sister. Perhaps an entertainer or comedian before I would ever consider settling down with a man. And, he would be no  _ prince _ !”

Maria smirked as if she suspected something. “Oh, you mean the other Mitya, that sweet kitchen boy.”

Anastasia felt her cheeks heat up. “I- I-”

“Come on, sister, it is not some problem to hide away. In fact, I am very happy to see that you have found love! Mitya may not be a prince, but he is a very kind young man. I think you two would make a great couple someday.”

Anastasia sighed. “You are right… I do love Mitya, but I worry that I may not see him again,” she whispered.

“I know that he is not of the same station as us, but are you willing to follow him?”

“I do not know, Mashka… I love him, but I am not sure if he feels the same for me.”

“I do not know if he does, but I believe that you should tell him someday. You two are on such good terms with each other. He would never leave you even if he does not feel the same.”

  
Another moment of silence passed between the Little Pair. “Thank you, Mashka. I feel more confident now.”

Maria then embraced Anastasia. She knew that Anastasia and Dmitri would make a good match despite their class differences, and she smiled at the thought of being an aunt to their potential children. If they did have children, she would spoil them! The thought made her feel giddy inside! Her thoughts of life were simple and pure: to love and be loved in return.

“Go and tell him,  _ shvibzik _ . You have been waiting too long,” Maria whispered.

Anastasia nodded, and she went to the door. This, of course, was noticed by their grandmother. Anastasia froze in place as her grandmother spoke.

“Where are you going, child?”

“I want to visit a certain friend next door, is it fine if Maria goes with me?”

“I suppose… Maria, please accompany your sister.”

“Yes! Absolutely!” Maria said, jumping off the bed.

The Dowager Empress and Anna resumed their conversation, chuckling at the lively antics of their two youngest grandchildren. It was better to enjoy them while their brief time of youth lasted. Soon, they would mature into young women with many responsibilities. This thought made the Dowager Empress feel a pang of nostalgia and missing for the times she held her eldest son as a young boy. Her eyes watered, but she dared not shed a single one.

“Maria is so kind, just like my late son, Nicholas,” she said.

“She truly is, and it is as if she were born with almost no trace of selfishness.” Anna replied.

Outside of the room, Anastasia noticed her friend Dmitri step out of his room. The kitchen servant stopped in his tracks, surprised by the sudden appearance of his Nastya. Dressed in her pastel pink blouse, Anastasia looked almost… beautiful? He blinked, glancing away. No, it still seemed too soon! He hoped that she would not hear the quickening thumping of his heart while she stepped closer.

“ _ Mitya _ , I need to tell you, um, something,” Anastasia whispered.

Dmitri became still, as if his feet were stuck to the floor. Could it be that she felt for him as well?

“If it is a secret, then I think we can go somewhere else,” he said, glancing back at the hotel room he left.

They all went around a corner, and Anastasia glanced behind herself to see no one nearby. Perfect! Dmitri, on the other hand, felt uneasy. He had begun to feel the slight moisture of sweat on the back of his neck. It was his hope that she would return his feelings for her, but could it be true? He put his sweaty, cooling hands in his pockets.

Anastasia knew that Dmitri was hiding something too, could he feel the same for her? Her heart was not beating. It was pouding madly for one thing only: her Mitya. She put her hands together, and took a deep breath.

“Do not be shy, sister,” Maria whispered.

Dmitri looked with longing at his closest friend and crush. “Please, Nastya, say what you have to say…”

“Mitya… I love you, so much that it feels like agony. You just make me so happy whenever I am with you, and I just wanted to tell you.”

Dmitri felt many feelings: joy, relief, and surprise. There was even the sensation of his heart falling. He knew it. He was in love. His eyes watered as he broke out the widest grin he ever could.

“Nastya, I’m not sure if you know this, but… I feel the same. You are the most special to me. You always were, since the first time I saw you after that snowball fight.”

Anastasia grinned widely, as if she were a young child opening her dream Christmas present. No words could truly describe how happy she felt. She learned closer, and embraced him. She looked up into those sweet warm brown eyes, and he looked into those cornflower blue eyes.

Maria squealed, jumping up.

“I am so happy for you two!” she said, embracing them both with such strength that it felt uncomfortable.

“Too… tight,” Dmitri said, attempting to wriggle free.

Maria let them go, and smiled at them, winking her right eye. She knew what they would do alright.

Anastasia and Dmitri, with their faces only centimeters apart, leaned closer to each other… Their lips met. They were not married yet, but propriety be damned! They deepened the kiss, mashing their lips together and stroking each other on the hair. This felt good. So good that they did not want to stop.

“Nastya, a servant is coming!” Maria warned, her blue eyes wider than ever.

Her sister and Dmitri broke their kiss, startled. They looked at each other again. They did not know what was so funny, but they laughed. The servant passing by them stopped in his tracks, raising one brown eyebrow.

“What is so funny? Can I hear the joke?” the servant asked.

“Not unless... you want to know… about making babies, Mister Anton,” Anastasia said between breaths and laughs.

“Uh… I must go,” Anton said, looking down to hide his reddening face.

As soon as the servant left, Maria, her youngest sister, and Dmitri burst into more laughter.

“That was… the  _ best _ lie ever told,” Dmitri said between gasps for air.

It definitely was. Anastasia had never felt much happier than that before. As long as Dmitri was happy, she was happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am certain that Olga would learn about basic economic policies from her father and tutors during her youth. Thus, she would have a working knowledge of economics for handling some situations. I actually looked into what outsourcing was, its pros, and its cons. Also, I thought of how a leader like Olga could counter foreign monopolies. Antitrust laws would be that sort of solution.
> 
> This will be the last update for some time, as I have some demanding classes to take this spring. Do not worry, I will definitely NOT abandon this series.


End file.
